


Never doubt I love

by under_stars



Series: Fate's children [1]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Blind Character, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Fate, First Love, First Time, Fluff, Kattegat, Loss of Virginity, Power Intrigue, Prophecy, Prophetic Dreams, Realization of Feelings, Revenge, Romance, Sibling Rivalry, Slavery, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Romance, Usurpation, Violence, ivar - Freeform, ivarxoc, not necessarily accurate with series storyline, unexpected/unwanted events
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:55:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 69,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23410054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/under_stars/pseuds/under_stars
Summary: "Doubt thou the stars are fireDoubt that the sun doth moveDoubt truth to be a liarBut never doubt I love..."He was a crippled prince and she a blind slave. They led such different lives but they both shared the same strange fate. They knew not what it had in store for them. That until they met.
Relationships: Ivar/Original Female Character, Sigurd/Original Female Charcacter, Ubbe/Magrethe
Series: Fate's children [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1837030
Comments: 73
Kudos: 304





	1. Home

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thank you for trying out my story!  
> It's been a while since I watched Vikings, so some names, places or storyline might be incorrect. But I am more interested in exploring the characters in depth so it does not really matter.
> 
> (and yes the quote in the summary is shakespeare, hamlet to be exact)

Ivar grabbed his drink and drank thirstily. The delicious mead filled his mouth, moistened his tongue and as he gulped, warmed his insides.

The Great Hall was crowded, people were noisily celebrating, feasting and drinking endlessly. Chatter, laughs and shouts filled the air, all joyous and somehow welcoming. Like home.

But Ivar did not feel like home. His mother was gone long ago, her place seized by her own killer, the very same person that was now hosting the feast. And sitting on the throne. His brothers also feasted and celebrated, as if nothing had happened, as if they had forgotten that tragic bloodshed of the past. And why shouldn't they? It was so long ago...Everything had run smoothly for them. Only he, only Ivar suffered for their sake. Only he had not forgotten Aslaug's death. Only he had vowed to avenge it.

From the corner of his eye he could see a young blond woman approaching the table he and his brothers were sitting around. He knew that woman. It was Margrethe, the slave his brothers could not get enough of. He...he hadn't had any of her at all. He had tried once to make love to this voluptuous woman who drove his brothers mad. But no. His efforts or, how she put it, her efforts had gone in vain. He had tried to prevent his brothers from learning the news. But Margrethe was no discreet person and soon enough Ivar had been met with a barrage of mocking comments.

No, it did not feel like home.

He shifted his attention to the abundant meat on his plate as Margrethe stopped by the table and sweetly offered her services. His brothers responded and acted loudly, like animals. Like animals...how ironic. It was him that had been many times addressed as an animal. A snake, a worm, a pig. Just because he crawled on the ground to move around. Just because his legs didn't work properly. Just because he was a cripple.

Cripple. He hated that word. He hated it intensely and this inexplicable hate made him despise himself. It was an endless cycle of self-loathing. He wondered if it would ever end. Could it ever? For one thing, he knew the pain would never end. Not only on his legs but on his mind, on his head. On his heart.

He wished he didn't have a heart. If he didn't, he would have never wished to finally belong somewhere, to finally be accepted for who he were. To be accepted for his malfunctioning legs and his slowly freezing heart that no mead could ever warm. To finally be truly loved.

"Too silent you are today, aren't you brother?"

A sudden wave of rage overwhelmed him. He could hear Margrethe giggling, seated on Hvitserk's lap. Charming Hivitserk, the funniest of the brothers, Ivar thought sarcastically. No, he could not bear this humiliation. Frustrated and ashamed, partly from his thoughts, he banged the table with his fists.

"What's wrong, brother? Too lonely tonight?" Sigurd mocked in his turn.

Ivar wished he could find something equally as insulting to say. But he couldn't. So he clenched his teeth and got up, directed a growl to his brothers and left, seething in anger.

No, this was not home. And perhaps, no, certainly, it had never been.  


..........

  
She had withdrawn to the furthest corner of the moving cart. Well, as far as she could because the cart was ridiculously full. Full of people. Full of slaves. She shivered at that thought and felt goosebumps form against her skin. She could hear the wails and laments of the people around her, mostly of women and naive children. The men were more silent, drowned in an inner rage. They- she knew there was no chance of escape. They were all chained, bloodied and heading to the slave market.

Who knew what would become of them...

Technically, they would in a few hours. But the future, the future of slaves was always bounded with uncertainty. And misery.

For her it had always been darkness. She never met the world like she was supposed to. She was destined and cursed with an eternal, incurable and impenetrable darkness. As a child she desperately wanted to know the color of her eyes, as if that knowledge could serve as a sort of solace. She was often told that it was of an unusual light grey. But with the passage of time she had realised the color of her eyes was no use to her, so she had stopped asking. Nor did the darkness bother her anymore. For it was what she had always known and what she would always know.

She learned to live with her inability. She came to love, accept it and embrace it. Under the guidance of her beloved grandma, who was the same as her, she heightened and trained her other senses. So much were her senses in sync that she thought she could indeed see every tree, every person, every star, every smile. The last thing her grandma had taught her was to read people. To penetrate their internal darkness with the eyes of her soul.

That had been the only happy time of her life, her childhood. But she was aware that all good things must come to an end. And so they did, taking her dear grandma, the only person she had in this world, along with them.  
Afterwards, her fate always dragged her from place to place, from town to town, from house to house. She had been a servant to a wealthy house before her masters sold her to a slave trader. The moment she was being dragged into the cart and put in chains she thought that the life of the servant would seem luxurious in comparison with that of the slave.

She had been the first one to be tossed in the dirty and smelling of rot cart. In the course of one week, many others had been added. All of them, silent. From time to time children would cry and frightened mothers would try to calm them down. The slaves to-be never talked to each other. Perhaps because they had nothing to talk about, since nothing of it all was new to them. Misery was not new to them.

After one week of endless rolling the cart had finally stopped.

A small child bounced around happily.

"Mummy, mummy, we have stopped!"

"Yes, darling."

"Is this our new home, mummy?"

The mother was trembling uncontrollably.

"Yes...we are finally home"

At the mother's answer, the girl in the corner could not prevent a sob from emerging.

Home...


	2. Fate of a slave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome!
> 
> The name of the protagonist is Haldis, I hope it is clear, because I did not mention it in the first chapter. Also Sigurd is a little off character in this chapter, but I will account for his behaviour later in the story. With that said, off with the story!

“Out!”

“Move, move!”

“Faster!”

The rough voices of the two men mingled with the noise coming from the morning market. But no slave talked. The tiring journey had finally come to an end, though a new one, longer and harder was about to start. No one dared to make the slightest sound as they were ushered out of the cart, stepping out to their new fate. Their new life. Another untold tragedy, another invisible weight attached to their shoulders. But again, it was nothing they did not know. Nothing they could not bear. Or so they thought, for they knew not what their new fate had in store for them.

These were the thoughts of Haldis, as she was listening to the two men, the slave traders, waiting silently for her turn to get out of the cart. Father and son they were, as she had deduced. They had the same harsh intonations in their voices and the way they thumped their feet on the ground was also strikingly similar. It was easy for her to notice such small things, over the years she had learnt to listen and feel the movements around her, perceiving other people’s characteristics in the smallest detail. Her grandmother had strongly believed that no inability weighs you down, rather it strengthens you, offering you a new perception of the world that other people cannot have. It makes you special. And wiser. And stronger.

But why did Haldis feel anything but strong that particular moment? During the journey she had attempted to distract herself from imagining possible versions of the future, what could happen to her after she exited the cart. She had spent the journey shaking these painful questions away by observing the situation in the cart, studying the other slaves. But now, the time had really come, and worry had started to get the best of her. All her attempts to calm herself went in vain. The distant noise coming from the market, the hateful remarks spat by the two traders were no help at all. And the worst thing was the grim atmosphere around her, a stiff silence exposing the unuttered cries of help. The dread for the future, the misery that was to come. Sticky sweat covered her body and made her desperately long for fresh air. For a moment she thought that she would find her end there, in the suffocating heat of the cart, pushed against other people, drowned in her own sweat and tears she tried so hard to hold back.

When she finally managed to step out of the cart, however, she immediately wished she had indeed left her final breath inside. She was instantly met with the cold autumn breezes of Kattegat, her old, torn dress doing nothing to shield her from it. Her knees started to give in right on the spot, exhaustion and hunger taking over at last. The noise around her transformed into a deafening sound. Voices, so many voices, what did they ask of her? As the wind blew increasingly colder, she felt dizzy, her head spinning round and round. She fell to the ground with a loud thud, panting. If only she could vanish here and there.

“What the fuck are you doing? Move!"

She barely recognized the voice of the younger trader. It was a rough command and she battled with herself in an unsuccessful attempt to follow it. She had lost control of her senses, of herself, the thought of being traded, sold for a few coins striking her with its harsh reality. She simply sat there, still, paralyzed with fear of her future, with fear of what the traders might do to her if she did not move. Where were the other slaves? She had no idea. She could not sense anymore.

No, Haldis. Fight. You will see, if you do, everything will be alright.

Yes...She could not give up. Not now. She was aware that her previous masters had not revealed to the traders the fact that she was blind. And for once she had felt thankful for her masters’ choice. These two men who bought and sold people for living, who held no respect for other human beings except from themselves, would show no mercy to her. They would certainly deem her worthless of selling and she would end up thrown about in some hole on the street. Dying like some kind of stray animal, a squashed fly, a withering flower. No, she could not allow this. She would not allow weakness to take her over. Her fate was cruel, that she had for certain, but she would not let herself be thrown away like rubbish.

“Didn’t you hear what I just said? Go join the other slaves, bitch!”

Mustering any courage she had managed to withhold over the past week, she stood up, paying no attention to her trembling legs. Taking a deep determined breath, she struggled to gain back full control of her senses. She was internally pleading to the gods for strength to come back to her. And it did. Slowly, her sense of direction crept up inside her once more, the noise became normal, her heartbeat steady. She finally took notice of the scared whispers from her right and sparing no other thought, sprang to that direction. She arrived there panting, but relieved to find out it was where the slaves had gathered. She could feel their widened eyes stare at her intently, questioning her actions, maybe pitying her, as well. From afar she also heard the trader shout another insult. But at that moment she did not mind, only focusing on battling the physical and emotion exhaustion she felt.

See, Haldis? Everything is alright now...

“Are you alright? You seem like you are on the brink of passing out.”

It took her a bit to realize the question had been directed at her. She raised her head at the the direction of the voice. It was warm and sympathetic.

“Oh yes, thank you”, she mumbled in response. “Now I am better.”

The woman gave a light chuckle and Haldis felt her offering her hand and she took it, appreciating the friendly gesture.

“You should have avoided angering the trader”, remarked the woman.

“Why?” Haldis asked, still a bit breathless. She had recognized the voice. It belonged to the woman who had sat next to her during the journey. She remembered her clearly now, it had struck her how calm she had been. She had not wailed nor cried. It was admirable indeed, for everyone has a breaking point.

“Well, I overheard them say that they will take a small group of young females to the Great Hall. They will try to sell some of us as thralls there.” The woman answered, smiling.

“And that is good?”, Haldis had yet to see the appeal in such news.

“Oh, for Odin’s sake! Imagine being bought by the princes! Not that it is better than being freed but, as I say, the royal slave is the happiest slave!” She exclaimed enthusiastically.

“Oh, I see”, Haldis merely replied.

She did understand why the woman had such an opinion about royal thralls. But she was aware it was a role she could never fulfill. The requirements were beyond her reach. Maybe the woman next to her had the qualities needed.

“I am Saga, by the way”, said the woman suddenly after a moment of silence between them.

“Haldis”

They shook hands again and then an awkward silence took over. They were both absorbed in their thoughts, probably lost in the labyrinths of dreaming, when they were ordered among other women to follow the elder trader, as he started to walk ahead. He had not decided to bring any assistants with him, being sure that none of these poor girls would manage or even dare to escape. They walked for quite some time, Saga quietly whispering to Haldis along the way, her chatty manner returning. By the time they had arrived at the so-called Great Hall, Haldis had already reached some conclusions about Saga. Having fully recovered from the shock she had been through, her senses were awake and alert, she was listening and observing as usual. She had deduced, based on the woman’s frequent short breaths and her steady balanced steps, that she was determined and energetic. Her warm voice gave away a feeling of hopefulness and positivity. Lucky shall be the man that will claim her, thought Haldis, she will bring him prosperity.

“I am sure the princes will notice you immediately, you are so pretty.” Saga whispered to her, while they were waiting for the slave trader to explain the purpose of his visit to the guards of the Great Hall.

“I am?” Haldis asked, genuinely surprised. Over the years she had never been told she was pretty, her inability always being the centre of attention. Only her grandmother had expressed enthusiasm about her appearance, and though Haldis would believe almost anything her grandmother would tell her, she never trusted claims about how she looked.

“Oh, yes! Those grey eyes of yours are so beautiful...like two shiny stones”, Saga explained warmly. “Not like mine, so overly brown and dull”, she proceeded to complain.

Haldis turned to her, facing her right in the eyes. She smiled and whispered “No, they are really beautiful. They remind me of honey”. She could sense the woman’s features light up at the compliment.

“Really?”

“Truly.” Haldis replied firmly. In truth, she had only made a guess, but she somehow felt that she was right.

Their conversation was cut short, when the slave trader motioned to their group 'to drag themselves closer', in his own words. They finally entered the Great Hall, all of them shrinking away in a corner.

“Oh gods, the princes are already here, oh, they are so handsome” Saga whispered to Haldis and the latter could feel the worry that overwhelmed the hopeful woman. Haldis smiled, mainly to herself, despite the bitter feeling building up in her chest. Saga would be the one to be immediately spotted by the princes, not her. She was not jealous, but a small part of her wished for a man to finally notice her. But not once in her life had she been courted, not even by village men, why would a prince? She was shaken off her thoughts, noticing three men approaching, most likely the princes. Their steps were heavy, but steady and determined. Their powerful, composed auras contrasted strongly with the miserable and arrogant one of the slave trader. It was obvious that the difference between the men was more than just their social status.

“What is you purpose here?” A surprisingly soft voice spoke. It was rough too, since it was a man’s, but it withheld a calmer undertone.

“Prince Ubbe, Prince Hvitserk, Prince Sigurd, come, come! So glad you came, will the Queen join you? My girls are excellent, very obedient, and at the best prices! They are sure not to disappoint!” exclaimed the trader in a clearly fake exuberant manner. Haldis felt sick at how he had presented them. To him, and to the princes as well, they were not human beings but goods to be exchanged for money and pleasure. She was filled with instant resentment at that thought. She would be no sex slave, hell, she would rather die in the streets! She slowly withdrew herself behind the girls, where she could not be noticed easily enough.

“The Queen will join you shortly. We will just continue our meal, you are not to disturb us” replied the same voice, which belonged to Prince Ubbe, Haldis assumed.

Prince Ubbe and his two brothers returned to their seats. Haldis sensed two other people approaching, followed by a crowd, probably slaves and warriors. One of them was certainly Queen Lagertha, who swiftly approached the trader. What struck her was that the other figure, who had remained at the back of the Hall, seemed to crawl on the ground, like a snake, digging knives on the floor to push forward. For some reason this thought sent a chill up her spine and she dismissed this idea as a mere mistake, confused by her own reaction.

“On what do we owe such an unpredictable visit?” spoke Queen Lagertha, her voice calm and dignified but coated with an air of authority.

“You see, my Queen, I have a fresh bunch of them, if you would be willing to have some, my prices are good...” stummered the trader in response, as if he suddenly regretted having come here.

“Ah, now I see. Well, even though I am not in need of any thralls, understanding...the trouble you went through to come to us, I shall pick one” answered the Queen, her manner cold, her tone implying that the trader not repeat his actions again.

“Well...thank you, my Queen, you don’t have to, if...” the Queen only shushed him with a motion of her hand.

Meanwhile, Haldis was facing a dilemma, her thoughts racing. So it was the Queen who would pick a thrall not the princes. One part of herself wanted to step forward again, for she believed that being one of the Queen’s thralls could potentially grant her a much more certain future. The Queen seemed admirable and understanding, maybe...maybe she would be treated well. But another part of herself, the doubtful and the fearful one, could not find the courage to decide, to move. She started trembling from anxiety and worry, at war with herself.

“You. I pick you. What is your name?” Haldis jumped at the voice of the Queen, but she already knew the question had not been directed at her.

“Saga, my Queen”

“Very well, I made my choice, trader you are to leave now”, said the Queen, her voice firm, that was an order.

The trader uttered a reply, undoubtedly embarrassed, as he was handed some coins without being asked to define the price for Saga.

Haldis simply stood there, motionless, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. All she felt was confusion, utter frustration, unable to understand why this hurt so bad. Maybe it was because once in her life after her grandmother’s death she had envisioned a better future for herself. How foolish of her to hope, even when she already knew Saga would be chosen. How foolish...

“Why are you hiding?”, A mocking voice came from her behind and she immediately recognized the soft undertone that belonged to Price Ubbe.

She found herself unable to reply, not even to turn to face him.

“Didn’t you want to be chosen? Shall I tell the trader you would like to stay?” the prince continued, his tone mocking, malevolent. She did not want to make a scene, especially after the events earlier that day.

“Please, no, my prince...”, she could barely whisper.

“No?”

“No...”

“No? Not even a thank you? I offer to free you from that bastard and you refuse?” The prince captured her arm in a tight grip, her face twisting in pain.

“Please, my prince...” she begged a little louder, gasping, fear rushing over her body, her blood heating up in panic.

“What kind of ungrateful bitch are you?” he growled “ Say thank you, now” he had become aggressive, his voice louder, attracting attention from the others in the room. Haldis was shaking like a fish out of water. Scared to death.

“T-thank you, my prince...” she murmured.

“Louder! And look at me!”

She turned to face him.

“Thank you, Prince Ubbe” she whimpered.

He released her arm abruptly, shook. A deadly silence lingered in the room.

“I am not Ubbe, you bitch!” He grabbed her from her hair, and she yelled in pain, as he shoved her to the the feet of the trader.

“You bastard! Best quality, eh? She is fucking blind!” He howled.

“Sigurd, calm down” said the real Ubbe this time.

“He was trying to fool us! She is blind, for Odin’s sake! He has probably brought some cripples too.”

“Sigurd, stop” it was the voice of another brother, Prince Hvitserk perhaps? Haldis could not be sure anymore.

But there was one thing she was sure of. That she was angry. And anger beats the fear.

“My princes, I swear to my sacred arm ring, I had no knowledge of this” the trader shouted, as he grabbed Haldis in his turn. “As for you, bitch, you hid that from me, you fooled me! You will pay for what you have done!”

“No!” Haldis yelled from the top of her lungs, struggling to break free from the man’s hold. “So what if I am blind? I can do anything they can do!” she went on, pointing to the other girls with a tilt of her head. “Anything! I can clean, I can cook, I can dress, I can serve, everything! It is like I see you! I see you now! In front of me is Prince Sigurd, on his right is Prince Ubbe, on his left Prince Hvitserk. See? The Queen is right behind you. And at the back there is someone who crawls!” she paused to take a breath. She would defend herself, even if that marked her end.

The trader tightened the hold on her head. “You disrespectful...”

“Enough!” it was Queen Lagertha who shouted. “ Release the girl! This is unacceptable! You come to our hall, while we are having our meal, we allow you to interrupt and you behave like this!”

“But, my Queen...”, the trader tried to protest.

“I said enough! You are not to set foot on this Hall ever again. Go!”, She dismissed him angrily.

They were all almost out of the Hall, when Sigurd whispered.

“As if we would ever buy a blind girl. A cripple!”, he scoffed.

Haldis did not turn to answer, despite the urge to attack him with all her might. Before she stepped out of the threshold, the trader’s hand tightly gripping her arm to lead her outside, she heard the sound of knives hitting the floor and a body approaching, crawling.

“Wait” it was a man and that had been an order. It was a smooth voice but rough, unnerving. He tossed some coins at the trader’s feet. “I am buying her”.

The trader did not move, frozen.

“Go!” spat the man from the floor.

And with that the trader was gone like the wind. Leaving Haldis standing there, baffled at the man’s actions. Who was he?

“Lagertha, you can keep her”, the man spoke again, his tone was sarcastic.

“Are you sure, Ivar?” asked Prince Ubbe.

“I said I do not want her, brother” growled said Ivar.

The crowd dispersed. It was only her and the man, Prince Ivar, it seemed. Hell, how many princes were there? Haldis had no idea what to do. She should thank him, probably, figuring from his brother’s reaction to not showing appreciation. Just as she was opening her mouth to speak he interrupted her. He spoke harshly.

“Just so you know, just because I bought you it does not mean I am favouring you in any way. So do not let it get to that head of yours”

He began to crawl again, leaving, when he stopped in his tracks abruptly, as if he were contemplating something.

“I did not do this for you. I did it for myself”, he spoke, his tone bitter, resentful.

And with that he departed.

Haldis was simply standing in the threshold of that Great Hall, dumbfounded.

Oh, how unpredictable was fate!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter!
> 
> I just want to clarify that how Haldis perceives the world does not necessarily adhere to how blind people do so in real life. I am by no means educated on the matter and I do not wish to offend anyone, this content is purely fictional.
> 
> That is all, have a nice day! :)


	3. Fate of a prince

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> I also hope everyone is coping well through these hard times. Stay strong!

“We could take them by surprise”

Ivar and his brothers were having breakfast, but it was not a simple family gathering, rather a serious meeting. They had to discuss the way they would avenge their father’s death in England, and they were all aware this was nothing short of a difficult task. They had just started discussing possible ways of approaching and attacking their enemies and it was Hvitserk who had suggested they use the element of surprise.

“The Saxons might be fools but not to an extent where they do not expect us to take them by surprise, brother”, replied Ivar sarcastically, his tone even more sarcastic when he mouthed the word “brother”.

“Well, that we know, Ivar”, spoke Ubbe, “however this does not mean we cannot surprise them anyway. We just have to find a really unexpected moment.”

“And how can we do that? It is not like their strategies are any different than ours” remarked Sigurd.

Ivar gave a mocking chuckle.

“And how would you know that, Sigurd? You were not with father and us when we fought the Saxons”, he said, his voice dangerously mocking.

“At least, I ca-“

“Stop!”, Ubbe interrupted the fight that was about to take place, “This is not about you, brothers. It is about our father”, he looked them both deep in the eyes, his voice slow, hypnotizing, “It is about our father, remember that.”

“I insist. A surprise attack is the best option we have.”

“I agree with Hvitserk. We cannot prevent them from knowing we are considering an attack. They killed our father, they expect us to avenge him. They are basically luring us in their territories. The only thing left for us to do is to gather our men and attack in the least expected way possible.”

“Very well, Ubbe, but this is all talk and no actual planning”, Ivar leaned forward, “And tell me, what is the least expected way for one to attack?”, he moved his eyes from one brother to another, his gaze ironic, challenging, “Perhaps we could descend from the sky? Or rise from the the ground? Or maybe from the sea?“

Ivar leaned back in his chair and laughed, satisfied. He always felt good gaining the upper hand on arguments. It felt great being the victor. It made his blood heat up in his veins, which gave way to a madly elating feeling that drove him in battle. He stared at them playfully, a mischievous sheen in his eyes.

“What? They would not expect that, would they?”

His brothers rolled their eyes. They were used to Ivar’s antics. They had learnt to bear them every day for many years. But lately his tone had been increasingly bitter. His intentions revealed an underlying vengeance, it could not be hidden anymore. It was obvious at times like this and every single one of the brothers felt it deep in their hearts. Was it merely the burning thirst for avenging their father’s death that they all felt? They dismissed it as so, but all of them knew it was something more, something Ivar had yet to show. Where would it lead? They would know one day, that was for sure. For now, only the mighty gods held such knowledge. The knowledge of the future.

They went on discussing and analyzing potential strategies they could adopt. Even though they were all expertly trained and skilled fighters, constructing a strategy and devising a plan was a painstaking procedure- and a long, tiring one. It was the first time they fought without their father and they were unsure of their powers at decision-making. And worst of all, they knew they had to rely on Ivar’s indisputably cunning mind.

Even when they finally reached a decision, uncertainty still troubled them, holding them back. All except Ivar, who kept trying to reassure them they had made the right choice, since he had suggested it. And as a last resort to ease their worries they decided to send Ivar to the Seer, so he could see if the man could predict anything that would prove useful. Ivar sulked, but his brothers were firm.

Ivar had never liked the Seer. It was something he could not quite put his finger on, something that bothered him when he visited the ancient man’s tent and prepared to ask him questions. And every single time the old bastard never failed to confuse and agitate him. Yet, as his people’s tradition was, he felt like he was inclined to visit him and ask for his opinion. If a whole culture trusted a Seer’s answers, then there was no reason for him to dismiss them as pure hogwash. At least that is what he tried to convince himself.

With a deep sigh of defeat, he set for the the old man’s tent. On his way out of the Great Hall he encountered Margrethe who smiled at him playfully; she was clearly heading to his brothers’ table. He huffed and continued crawling but the mere sight of the slave evoked a painful memory he was long trying to forget. The memory of his failure as a man. He suddenly felt as if a monstrous hand had gripped his heart, squeezing it tightly to suffocate him. The pain spread on his whole body, even on his numbed legs and he had to stop, in order to compose himself. He should not have such thoughts bother him at times like this. He had to avenge his father. And his mother.

As he raised himself slightly to continue, he saw another slave sweeping the floor with a wooden broom. He recognized her instantly, it was that blind slave he had bought some days before, and he eyed her curiously as she handled the broom with swift movements. She truly did not seem blind at all, she swept and swept unbothered, silent, obedient. His eyes traveled on her whole form, her small lithe body, her pale features, the braided brown hair, the rosy lips and cheeks, and finally, those strange grey eyes, staring at absolutely nothing. He wondered for a moment what it would be like not to be able to see the world. To always be met with a dark void, even when you open your eyes. He would have hated it, and for an instant he felt thankful it was his legs that had a problem and not his vision, but he immediately regretted his thought, for he remembered the other inability that came with immobile legs. The inability to please a woman and be cast aside for it.

He shook himself out of this depressing trance and he shot the slave an angry glance for reminding him of his pains, but them he remembered that she could not see his expressions. She was blind after all. She probably had not even taken notice of his presence. He shrugged. Well, no matter. She was simply a slave. And he, for one, had a task to complete.

The visit to the Seer was not very pleasant, but thankfully, not that horrid. The Seer kept rumbling that revenge will only result to more revenge and that no plan is ever wrong, rather unfavoured by the gods. Ivar interpreted these answers as a positive reaction, for, in his opinion, it hinted their success in taking revenge. And it also affirmed his secret desire to avenge his mother. Revenge will result to further revenge. That said it all. He smiled at himself, satisfied. He had been right all along, his suffering had not gone in vain. He now had the approval of the gods. One day he would avenge his mother. One day. 

He was ready to exit the tent, when another questioned formed in his mind. What about his future? What about the fate of Ivar the Boneless? 

“What does my future hold, old man?”, Ivar decided to take a risk and stay a little longer. 

“Revenge will only result to more revenge...and more revenge...until the end of time....”, answered the Seer, his voice raspy and croaky as always.

“That does not answer my question, old man”, Ivar persisted, deciding that he would stay there until he got a sufficient answer. 

“People die before they are born...People can breathe after they die...”

“With all respect, old man, that is not what I asked-“

“What you believe is not what you know...And what you know not is what you believe...”

“I want to know if my decisions are right.” Ivar interrupted, his agitation growing.

“You do not swim, you drown...The blond is not yellow, but brown...”

Ivar had started to lose his patience, but he stayed, his stubbornness keeping him on the edge.

“Darkness is light, the sun is the moon...You thought you spoke true, but all you said was lies...”

That had been it. Ivar’s patience vanished, anger taking over his whole biology. How dare that rot of a man offend him in such a way? Ignoring his questions and the accusing him of telling lies! It was on purpose, that’s what it was, even the Seer made fun of him! Ivar’s blood heated up again in fury and he growled like a wild animal. He would not be made fun of! He would not allow this...one day everyone would pay for mistreating him like this...one day...they would see what he could do to them...one day he would meet glory...

He stormed out of the tent, his knives leaving deep holes on the soil, signs of his anger. 

“One day”, Ivar murmured to himself, his voice hoarse from all the growling, “I will kill that bastard.”

As Ivar was leaving, he did not hear the Seer whisper something, his voice, wounded by the passage of time, having a divine tone to it.

“When you crawl, really, you fly...”

..................

A soft sigh left Haldis’s lips, as she was sweeping the Great Hall. And surprisingly, after so many years, the sigh was not of desperation, but of composed contentment. Her premonition that a place among the slaves of the rulers of Kattegat would provide her with certainty was a correct one. Not that she enjoyed being a slave, of course not, but everyone in that place minded their own business. And thankfully, the word that she was blind had spread and no man had bothered her. 

While she was handling the broom expertly, as she had been shown by her grandmother, she replayed in her mind the events of the previous week, the events that had led her to that position, cleaning quietly with a small smirk plastered on her face.

Price Ivar’s words had left her completely flabbergasted, frozen in place. If it weren’t for Saga who had been ordered to fetch her, she would have probably stayed there for the entire night, still in shock, attempting to process had happened. Fortunately, Saga carefully led her to a tiny room, where an old woman, who introduced herself as Berit, explained to them their duties. Berit, as she mentioned, was the head of the female slaves. Haldis later learned from another slave that she used to be one of Queen Lagetha’s personal slaves, but as she aged the Queen assigned her the task to supervise and organise the female slaves. And so she did, devoting herself to her task completely. It was rumoured that she was infertile and she had never had any children of her own, making her bitter and unfair towards slaves who were with child. But Haldis did not have to worry about that. Berit, she noted, was a very small woman, so small, it was as if the years had shrunk her into almost nothing. But to her surprise, the old woman moved around with ease and with such an air of authority that no girl dared to oppose her. 

While she was talking, Berit had offered Haldis some water and said that she had already been informed of her inability and that she intended to give no preferential treatment because of it. What was with the people of this place? By highlighting that they would treat a person with an inability equally to a normal one as something unusual made the whole situation a bigger deal in the first place. Maybe they were not accustomed to having such people around, Haldis assumed. But then Prince Ivar came to mind and she decided it was the opposite. ‘They say that because they already know how it is like’, she thought to herself and she wondered how Prince Ivar coped with his inability. He was incredibly intimidating, for all she knew.

Her attention shifted back to Berit who reluctantly assigned her with the task of cleaning, that if she could really do it. Haldis felt obliged to ensure the old woman that she was capable of doing anything, and her tone ringed a little more desperate than she had wished. She sensed Berit eyeing her suspiciously and she thought that maybe her words had sounded untrue but she said nothing to denounce them. Berit, clearly pleased by Haldis’s silence, added that she were to assist in the kitchen, if she was ever needed. And by ‘ever’, Haldis later realised, Berit meant ‘always’. For the kitchen girls seemed to be in constant need of her, though Haldis knew they just wanted to get rid of some of their tasks. And she really did not mind working, it kept her occupied and productive enough to please Berit, whose watchful eyes left nothing go unnoticed.

Saga was immediately given the task of serving none other than the princes. Berit announced that in a scornful voice, adding that it had been specifically requested by the Queen. Dagny, the slave that had told Haldis about the rumours concerning Berit, also told her the position of a server was difficult to acquire and that only beautiful girls were chosen. “I wonder why”, Haldis had remarked sarcastically, possibly earning a questioning look from the other slave. 

The days had passed smoothly. She had quickly adapted to the way of living, the early waking, the hard work, the slice of bread and a piece of cheese at the end of the day. There was a small room close to the Great Hall, where female slaves slept and in spite of the fact that it reminded her of the cart she had travelled into, she got used to its suffocating atmosphere. The room smelt of sweat, dirt and blood, but that smell was nothing new to Haldis. It was as though that scent had been following her ever since she had become a servant. It was the scent of the poor and the pained, the scent of a slave. There was blood because some of the girls received beatings, but none of them ever mentioned why and by whom. Dagny was one of them, but she claimed she had got used to it. “I have been here since I was a child”, she had said, “there is no point in questioning it. It is what it is.” She had sounded apathetic, but Haldis had easily detected the desperation the girl had tried so hard to mask.

Her train of thought was interrupted when she heard someone approaching and she instantly knew it was Prince Ivar, for he was crawling as always. She did not address him nor did she acknowledge his presence, his past words echoing in her mind.

‘Just so you know, just because I bought you it does not mean I am favoring you in any way. So do not let it get to that head of yours’

His tone had been harsh, maybe even angry. She shuddered at their memory, again not really knowing why. She wondered why he had been so quick to assume she would think of such a thing. Had something similar happened in the past? She could not help but notice something strange in his voice, some hidden malice. A hidden pain. What was his story?

‘I did not do this for you. I did it for myself’

That she could understand. He did this because he was a cripple and she too was a cripple in her own way. But he had not done this to help her personally, but to prove to others that cripples do have a place in society. A cripple could be a slave. A cripple could be a prince. He bought her to save his honour and his wounded pride. Again, what was his story? 

She felt inexplicably curious to learn more about him. Perhaps since he was similar to her in a way and such people are rare. Indeed, the only people with an inability she had ever known were her grandmother and herself. And now Prince Ivar as well.

He stopped abruptly, grunting, and she felt a strong urge to ask him if he was alright. How would it feel to be unable to walk? The mere idea of it seemed terrible to her. Dagny had mentioned that he had been born a cripple. How much he would suffer...she could not even fathom the amount of pain he could feel. Fortunately her eyes never caused her any pain. Well, apart from a few headaches here and there, but they occurred only if she overworked herself...which had by now become a routine. 

She sensed him staring at her intently and she felt a blush form on her cheeks. She internally cursed herself for wondering if she looked alright. She rarely ever had time to look after herself, but she had gotten a new dress another slave had given her because it did not fit her anymore. Well, it was hardly new, but her old dress was so ragged and filthy that this hand-me-down had been more than a welcome relief. And that morning she had loosely braided her hair. Did it look...good?

He kept staring at her, she was sure he was examining her and she felt overwhelmed by embarrassment. Silence hung in the room, stiff. And then suddenly he grunted again, his breathing became irregular and she knew he was angry. Why?

She felt so drawn to him, as if something had bound them together, pulling them close. 

She stopped sweeping and her eyes fluttered closed. She inhaled deeply.

There was something about him. Something he had yet to show. It was hidden in the shadows of their minds, but still, it drew them close. She had felt it. Maybe he had, too...

Haldis exhaled and went on sweeping, flustered. Prince Ivar had already left.

Nonsense. She should not care. He was a prince after all.


	4. A bond between the pained ones

Haldis was peeling onions in the kitchen. She had a huge pile in front of her, and she knew it would take her all day if she continued in such a slow pace but her mind was racing, leaving her unable to concentrate. She felt upset due to what she had felt when Prince Ivar had been near. Not only had he left her in a confounding state twice but she had imagined there was a connection between them! A connection...how impossible! He was a prince with a massive potential and she was simply a slave condemned to an inexorably sad fate...

At that moment, however, her premonition had felt so true, so real, as though she had taken a glimpse in what it was to come...

She let out a sigh of desperation and then felt an irrepressible urge to laugh. It started out as a giggle, but it quickly turned into an uncontrollable laughter. Gods, she was a slave, peeling onions inside a petty excuse of a kitchen and reminiscing her two confusing encounters with a prince! It was ridiculous and silly in her part and she recognised it now, her thoughts suddenly back in order. She had simply felt overly thankful towards Prince Ivar, for he had rescued her from the wrath of the slave trader. Her feelings had been repressed by not being able to express her gratitude and she had started imagining things. Yes, that did account for her strange thoughts that day. It was funny, but she felt lighter now, relieved. She was not bounded to anyone.

Well, except Queen Lagertha, for she was in her service now. And Berit, the head of the slaves, who did not particularly like her. And the onion, too, for it was her current task!

She tried to muffle her laughter by burying her face in the hem of her apron but she accidentally dropped said onion in the process. It fell to the ground with a light thud and for an unknown reason she found it so bloody funny that she burst into a hysteric laughter. She felt tears form in her eyes and snorted in a failed attempt to compose herself, and she was in that state when Saga entered the kitchen, which had been empty all along. The kitchen girls must have been very busy indeed.

“Haldis?”

Saga’s voice trembled a little, she was clearly nervous. Haldis only hummed in response, focusing her attention back on her task. Her laughing had ceased and she felt ashamed of her little outburst. She felt uneasy to talk to the other woman, who surely felt the same way. They had not talked nor seen each other ever since their arrival and now an awkward silence hung in the air.

“H-how are you getting on?”, Saga initiated the conversation nervously, still standing in the threshold of the kitchen.

“Fine”, Haldis’s answer was deliberately laconic. She suspected Saga had come to her with a certain purpose and she waited to see whether she would admit it.

Saga fumbled with her dress.

“You are...safe, are you not?”, she asked, sounding unsure of her own question.

“I am...why wouldn’t I be?”, responded Haldis, having yet to raise her head to face the other woman. Her fingers handled the small knife feverishly.

“Well...you know...I have heard some girls receive beatings, and given your...”, there Saga stummered, “...given your eyes, I got worried-”

“-No, I am alright...for now, I suppose. One can never know...”, Haldis answered grimly and finally raised her head, turning her face to the direction of Saga.

Saga gave a nervous chuckle.

“Haldis, I want to talk to you...”

Haldis smirked, “You are already doing that, Saga”

“Well, I...no wait, I-I” Saga floundered for a minute and shifted uneasily. But then, as if something had struck her, she grabbed a small stool which was close to her and placed it next to Haldis. She sat down and took a deep breath.

“I will help you. Then we can talk”, she said with finality. Well, that was the Saga Haldis had met a week ago. Determined, hopeful Saga.

Haldis gave her a nod of approval and the two worked for some minutes in a comfortable silence. Only the sound of their knives scratching the onion skin was heard, along with the distant muffled noise coming from outside.

“Haldis, I have to apologise”, Saga began.

The former raised her head, surprised.

“But, why?”

“Listen, you might have thought that I ignored you these days...but this is not the case. I had been very overwhelmed and I suppose you must have been also. But I did not forget you and I did not avoid you, nor do I despise you because of...”, she paused there, unsure if she should continue.

“Because of what, Saga?”, Haldis encouraged her calmly. She should have expected this.

“Because of...your eyes...”, Saga breathed heavily and waited for the impact of her words.

“Oh, Saga...if anyone should apologise it is me”, Haldis exclaimed warmly, “I am sorry, I should have told you I am blind when we met.”

“No, no, I understand, it must be so hard for you...to not even know how people will take the news...”

“No, I had a feeling about you. I should have trusted you”, Haldis confessed quietly.

“A feeling about me?”, Saga seemed taken aback. Haldis nodded.

“Yes. A good feeling about you. A future friend.”, she grinned and waited for Saga to process what she was suggesting. 

“A true friend”, the anticipated answer came, firm, determined. Hopeful.

They shook hands like the day of their meeting to seal the deal.

“Now, let us start anew. Hello, my name is Saga”, Saga said between giggles.

“Mine is Haldis. And I am blind”, at this Saga stopped laughing.

“Is it...hard to live like this?”, she murmured, her tone serious and wary.

“I was born blind so I cannot really tell the difference...but I manage everything. This is my world and it will always be”, Haldis responded softly.

“There must be some cure-“

“It is incurable, Saga. But I do not mind it, I really do not. It has always been this way and I have learnt to live like any other person. Even if I was to be offered the gift of sight I am not sure I would like to accept it”, Haldis admitted skeptically.

“How do you...how do you know where to go, where to stand, what to do? How do you recognise people?”, Saga asked in awe.

“I use my other senses, Saga. People rely so much on their vision that they often forget they possess other senses as well. I listen, I smell, I touch. And it is like I can really see.”

“Extraordinary, really...I admire you, Haldis”, Saga breathed excitedly, “And do tell me, do you know how people look? Last time you told me the colour of my eyes reminds you of honey”, she hesitated for a second, “Was that...a lie?”

“You would think that colours mean nothing to me, wouldn’t you? Well, they actually do, as impossible as that sounds. I know the names of every colour and most of the times I can recognise them, again by using my other senses. For instance, the colour red has a spicy smell, always very intense. Yellow is the softest in touch and green smells like nature, mostly like leaves”, Haldis paused for breath, “Everything is easy once you get used to it. And to be honest, the colour of your eyes was a wild guess...but I was right, was I not?”

“I looked in the mirror as soon as I could and you were right, they do have a honey-ish colour”, Saga admitted breathless, “Do you know how I look?”

“I confess I have no idea, but I can recognise you by your warm voice and signature balanced walking. And I know you are taller than me”

“That is true! What colour is my hair?”

“Can I touch it? I might be able to tell.”

Saga nodded in approval and Haldis took a strand of her hair and rubbed it in her fingers.

“It is quite scratchy and thin. I think it is red”, she said after a moment of thinking.

“Gods, you are right!”, Saga laughed in enthusiasm, “Tell me, tell me, what else can you do?”

Haldis laughed as well, “What I do is nothing special, my friend, it is simple once you know the secrets. And then practice makes perfect. I remember when I was little I always got so confused that I could not distinguish a man from a woman”, Haldis said, recalling her childhood, when she was still being trained by her grandmother. It had been so hard for her, then. The darkness was so impenetrable, so painful that she often desperately cried to the gods for help. It never came from them. But it came from her grandmother, who never gave up and who believed in Haldis’s abilities. Along with her her, Haldis learnt to make her way through the world. To walk, to cook, to cry, to laugh, to dance and sing. To live. Her chest began to hurt at the memory of her deceased grandmother. Dear grandma! What would Haldis have become without her?

Haldis snapped out of her recollection and chuckled sadly.

“I can also read palms”, she added, remembering another skill she had been taught. She could not read books, but she could read people. Their palms, their faces, and finally, their minds. The darkest part of any person where secrets and dreams lie and thrive. 

Saga got excited and extended her hand. Haldis took it and searched it with her fingers. She traced its lines and scratches slowly, frowning.

“What do you see, what do you see?”, the red-headed woman demanded impatiently, without noticing the slip of her tongue.

“You are a strong woman, Saga. You are funny and energetic, so full of life. You will have a long life, but you will face hardships, many hardships. Never forget to hope and try and you will come out on top. Remember this”, Haldis said, carefully choosing her words.

“So...you can read the future?”, Saga asked in evident disbelief.

“This is not the future, Saga. I know nothing about it. This is what your palm tells me about you. You as a person, nothing more”, Haldis quickly denounced the woman’s claim. She had no knowledge of the future. Nor did she ever predict anything. Well, barring a few premonitions or two.

“I was not always a slave, you know...”, Saga muttered, interrupting the short silence that had occurred, “I had a good life but I fled from it like a fool”, she sighed in sadness, “Like a young fool, to be exact.”

Haldis clasped her hand tightly to comfort her, “Could you tell me why you left?”

“I fled from an arranged marriage. I was really young then, almost a child. My father was a merchant and this marriage benefitted him somehow, I never really understood how exactly. But I had been so scared and so foolishly stubborn to listen to my parents that I ran away, quite literally. There is no way I would have been able to survive alone but luckily a slave trader captured me and saved me from my troubles”, her tone was bitterly ironic, “I have been a good slave ever since.”

Haldis did not respond, for she had nothing to say. Nothing can be said when the vileness of tragedy reveals itself. Every slave came from somewhere. Every slave had known tragedy. Some lived to tell their tales. Some did not.

“I have not always been a slave, either”, Haldis said quietly but she found herself unable to continue her story. She felt heavy and a knot had formed in her throat. Maybe she would continue another day. Another day, when she will have gathered enough courage to face her pain. Face and fight it. And perhaps, finally manage to escape it.

They went on peeling the onions, but once the sadness had drifted away, a strong sentiment filled the air. It was solid and present, and they both felt it. It was the bond they had started to form. The friendship they had sworn to each other, because they had sympathized with one another and faced the same uncertainty. Well, that and the horrible smell of raw onions. The biggest tribulation they had gone through yet.

They started chatting and Haldis told her about her duties, the room she slept in, and the young slave Dagny, who kept talking to her, answering unspoken questions. Saga said she slept in a similar room, also packed with slaves, and that she had made the acquaintance of Margrethe, a slave who claimed to be close to all the princes. Haldis internally wondered just how close. They laughed when they came to the realization that they both suspected Berit of constantly watching them. Poor Berit, she had found no fault or mishap to accuse them of. As of yet, that is.

“So how is serving the princes like?”

“Well, I hardly serve them, really. I serve when there are feasts and gatherings and when I do not, they send me to the market to buy any ingredients needed. Then I do other minor tasks requested by female followers of the Queen.”

Haldis hesitated a little, before she asked a question, lowering the volume of her voice.

“Have you...laid with any of the princes?”, she flushed at the embarrassing inquiry, as did Saga.

“N-no, for Odin’s sake. I do not think they have even noticed me.”

In spite of Saga’s firm claim that she had yet to catch the attention of the princes, Haldis was certain that this was not the case. She knew nothing about the slave Margrethe, but she had a feeling Saga had been deliberately approached and befriended by her. If she was really as a close to the princes as she had asserted, then she might have heard or been told something that concerned the red-headed slave. There were two things Haldis was sure of. First that Saga could not go unnoticed by any man for more than one week and second, there is rivalry even between slaves. Many of them have ambitions and will stop at nothing to achieve them. Haldis could bet that Margrethe was no fool and she had certainly set her sights on marrying one of the princes. What is better than getting married to a handsome prince, when you are just a penniless slave?

“Well, who do you like best?”, Haldis questioned Saga in a teasing tone.

Saga giggled, still embarrassed.

“Oh, I have told you they are all so handsome!”

“Ah, you are not good at lying! Which one do you like more?”

“I like them all equally, I swear!”

“I do not believe you! Wait, I will get it out from you! What colour is their hair?”

“Why don’t you touch them and find out?”

They were laughing hysterically by now.

“Oh, stop! Tell me their hair colour!”

“Blond! All of them are blond, except Prince Ivar, his hair is brown.”

“Oh...his eyes?”

“Blue, I think they all have blue eyes, except Prince Hvitserk, his might be green.”

“Ah, you have noticed, you sneaky girl! Who would you choose, if you could?”

“I-I do not know!”

“Lies! She knows! Who is it?”

“Well, maybe-“

Their laughing and teasing halted abruptly by the appearance of Berit, who was standing at the entrance, wide-eyed and most likely furious. From behind her stood the kitchen girls, startled. Well, someone had neglected their duties, alright. 

Berit approached them swiftly and talked in her hoarse, broken voice.

“I will let you both go, because I have to deal with these lazy bitches, but I will be watching you like a hawk. If I catch you procrastinating again, there will be consequences”, she growled and turned to the kitchen girls, barking they must finish the onion peeling in less than five minutes.

“You two, return to your duties!”, she ordered, jerking her head towards the door and the two friends gladly obeyed. When they were far enough not to be heard, they burst into giggles. After calming down, they hugged, promising to meet up again soon and with that they parted ways.

Haldis grabbed a wooden broom and sighed, contented. She had appreciated Saga’s company, which had alleviated her frustration. She started sweeping, thinking about what she had been told by the redhead. As much lively and vivacious she was, Saga seemed to be naive and oblivious to what people’s intentions might be. Haldis should have warned her to be careful who she trusted and befriended. And it would not be long before the princes would take her to their beds...that would evoke much jealousy and hatred from the other ambitious slaves. Haldis was sure glad she did not have to worry about such things! If she could find a few people, whom she could trust and love, then she was satisfied. Saga was one of them. And if, one day, she could earn her freedom, by working hard, then she could restart her life from that point.

Yes, that was her newly-found ambition. To work hard and become free. And then live. And find a new dream to strive for. 

She grunted, as a splitting headache started to take over her head.

But that would be her new life. Her new life after the pain. For now she had to work and endure. That is what all slaves do. What all the pained do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! 
> 
> I am not sure about Hvitserk and Sigurd’s eye colours, if anyone knows, can you please tell me, so I can fix it?
> 
> Again, whatever Haldis says about how she recognises colours, types of hair, fabrics and anything else is purely fictional. By no means are these real facts.
> 
> :)


	5. Moonshine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, I hope you will like it! :)
> 
> By moonshine I do not mean the drink, I use it as an alternative word for moonlight.
> 
> Also the training scene of the brothers is the one from the show.

The Great Hall was especially crowded that day. Noisy and messy, as slaves ran from here to there to clean and tidy up the space. Another vaguely important feast was to be held by Queen Lagertha and many slaves had been summoned to contribute to its preparation. When one looked at the crowded hall from afar they could see how many slaves there were, a big mass that had to be kept tamed at all times, for if it rebelled, only the gods knew what chaos would ensue. A big mass indeed, but kept in chains by only a handful of people. Sounds logical but unfair. Well, if anyone ever thought that life is fair was a fool, for life and fate are inexorable and unchangeable, but above all, unfair.

Ivar knew that better than anyone he had ever met. He had been struck with the unfairness of life from the very first moment he was brought to it. Everything had been decided even before he was born, he had been doomed to suffer and make his way through the world by crawling and howling and aching. To always carry a numb weight with him, wherever he went, without being able to rid himself from it. It was a burden being the cripple. And the cripple was a burden to everyone else.

He had worked- and fought- hard to prove himself, to prove he was no dead weight to this demanding world. And he had succeeded to a certain degree. His family and his people respected him. Again, to a certain degree. He wanted, he always did, more. He wanted to show, to demonstrate his power, his abilities, his strength. And now he knew, and the Seer had confirmed that, the time would come when glory would be thrust upon him, his name would be marked in history, that great and unyielding glory he craved so much.

He had to work harder towards that great ambition, he was aware of that. He was no fool, but he was impatient when it came to proving himself and defending his honour. And especially when he was belittled by people who were close to him. He could hardly control himself when he was being taunted by his brothers and lately the bitterness that he had accumulated all these years was poisoning his words. But it was his brothers who usually started the arguments, not him. They insulted him in a vague, indefinite but ironic manner that drove him insane. Sigurd was the worst one. Ivar never really understood why there was so much rivalry and underlying hatred between them, it had never been like that with Ubbe and Hvitserk. But he and Sigurd bickered constantly, throwing comments and insults to one another, all of them implying much more than could be understood by others. 

That day the slave trader had marched in trying to sell off his slaves, he had not been interested, for he knew it a slave could be of no good use to him. And even though that thought had angered him, some weird feeling, curiosity perhaps, had beckoned him to stay and watch. And when Sigurd had exposed that blind slave, Ivar was taken aback since he had never met anyone else who was cursed with an inability. He would not have involved himself in the situation, however, when he heard Sigurd whisper something about never buying cripples, something snapped inside him. He felt like the insult had been cleverly directed at him, and his instinctive reaction had been to purchase the slave. It was as if his mind had been fogged by some divine certainty, which led him to blindly buy the girl, as if this action could serve as a response to Sigurd’s insult. Moments later, his mind cleared, he had reflected on his action and had come to the conclusion that not only did it not return the insult but it also made him look like a fool. These frustrating thoughts had caused him to snap at the clearly startled slave, barking at her that he did not own her nor did he want her. That was true, at least. She had nothing to give him and neither did he.

Nevertheless, he cast a curious glance around the hall in search of her. Where was she now? She was not there calmly cleaning like the last time he had seen her. Perhaps she had failed to live up to her duties. Who knows?

That surprisingly warm autumn day, while watching the feast being prepared, he felt more sad and lonely than he could admit to himself. He unsuccessfully tried to convince himself that it was just a phase, the grim weather of the previous days had probably affected his mind. But this was not true, deep inside he knew that the heavy loneliness he currently felt was not temporary. It had always been there, tormenting him, isolating him from his brothers, from the rest of the world. He longed for someone to share his pains with. Someone who would be able to understand him fully and not compare him to others. He had found what he was looking for in the face of Floki, his father’s close friend, but over the years they had grown apart, both distracted by their own duties and troubles. Ivar needed someone who would not judge him for what he could and could not do, but for what he truly were. 

Who was he really? That was an easy answer, Ivar supposed. He was the cripple son of Ragnar Lothbrok, the feared Ivar The Boneless. And he needed a friend.

He grunted at that thought, furious. Did he just bluntly admit to himself that he was in need of a friend? Impossible! He should not be in need of anyone or anything other than himself. He was strong enough on his own. He was a strong, solitary creature that crawled upon this earth, waiting between the trees for the right time to strike. He needed no-one.

He suddenly remembered he was to train with his brothers in the forest and he would be late if he did not depart now. He sighed and unwillingly stole one last glance at the hall but the blind slave was nowhere to be seen. He felt a strange pang at his chest, an indefinite feeling of disappointment and at this realization he huffed. Why was he looking for her, it was none of his business to question a slave’s whereabouts! But for an unknown reason he felt an inexplicable longing for her. He could not help but feel somehow curious about her, as though she was a newly-found creature that had yet to be discovered. Well, she was not actually. In truth, she was one of his kind. He smiled selfishly at that thought. Maybe he was not the only one feeling so awful in this harsh world.

His light mood vanished, however, for when he arrived at the training facility his brothers were already there, ironic smirks plastered on their smug faces. Before they could open their mouths to mock him, he raised his hand in the air as a sign of truce.

“I know, I know, I am late”, he said in a fake apologetic manner, as his mind raced to find a sufficient excuse to account for his delay, “but I was busy, brothers”, he added sourly, unable to come up with anything convincing.

“Very busy you must have been, brother”, started Sigurd, easily noticing his brother’s discomfort, “It is difficult to chase slaves around to no avail”, he joked, unaware that his statement was half-true.

Ivar’s eyes widened in surprise. Had Sigurd caught him looking at the blind slave the day he visited the Seer? Or was he just choosing an insult at random? For all he knew, Sigurd could not read thoughts nor was he particularly observant. Nevertheless, he chose to ignore his brother and settled himself on a log close to the stack of weapons. He grabbed an axe and silently begun to sharpen it, his disturbing thoughts abandoning him the very moment he touched the deadly weapon. Holding it, handling it, he felt powerful and strangely calm. This time the argument had ended before it even started and each one of the brothers turned to train, after Ubbe sent a reprimanding glance to Sigurd. They all worked in silence for a while, Ubbe and Hvitserk having paired for a sword fight and Sigurd handling an axe on his own, slicing the air with might. Ivar still sharpened his weapon, unbothered, focused. After some time, Hvitserk paired with Sigurd and the two engaged in a heated fight. 

The intense slashing of metal and the grunts of the two men made Ivar raise his head and stare at them. He observed them, they way they fought and handled their weapons, their deep focus, their struggle to outsmart one another. He smirked wickedly, knowing that right now he was unnoticed by them, he could spring and attack and take them by surprise. They were absorbed in their own world, a world where only they existed, but he held their fates in his hands. If they were his enemies, he could have struck them and caught them off guard. 

He kept staring, mainly at Sigurd, and the familiar feeling of his blood heating up in his veins returned with force. All the times he had been cruelly insulted by his brother flashed before Ivar and he felt his hand pulse. He was holding the axe so tightly that the edge of his fingers had turned white. He smirked, his eyes shining with mischievousness, and his drive for revenge took over his body. He dropped the axe, grabbed a bow and arrow and positioned himself. 

And then he pulled the string. The arrow slashed though the air, passed between the two brothers who were still fighting, and landed on a tree, where it remained, a warning. Hvitserk and Sigurd jerked their heads towards him, surprised, and Ivar howled in response, provoking them. Sigurd, getting wind of the challenge, drew his axe, but Ivar, quicker and wittier, had already threw his in his brother’s direction. The sharpened silver weapon lightly glazed Sigurd’s cheek and joined the arrow on the tree. Ivar scoffed at him, in satisfaction. Their gazes locked, hard, intent, a sheen of malice in them. Deadly silence hung the air. Neither of them moved and probably they would not have, if Hvitserk, in his turn, had not charged at Ivar with his sword, interrupting the intense staring. Ubbe quickly handed his sitting brother a sword and the two brothers fought for a while, metal against metal, blood against blood. Despite his position that prevented him from moving around, Ivar managed to place his blade at his brother’s neck, trapping him. They stayed there for a few seconds and then Ivar released his hold. Hvitserk grabbed a flask of water and drunk it all.

“A good fight, brothers”, commented Ubbe, ever the peacemaker, and then silence ensued. 

Birds were singing softly on the trees, making the atmosphere less tense. All of them were panting, their breaths hurried and sharp. Ivar looked around him, his normal mood restored, the joy of fighting had retreated. The sunshine was filtered by the tree branches around them and made the drops of blood on Sigurd’s cheek illuminate intensely, as though it was something unnatural. ‘Revenge was taken’, Ivar thought to himself and chuckled, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his palm.

The gods only know how much time they would have stayed there, consumed by their silence, had not laughter sounded in the distance. The four of them jerked their heads to its direction and spotted a group of female slaves gathered by the river, washing clothes. There were quite a few familiar faces but only one woman stood out from all the rest. They all recognized her, it was the newly-acquired slave Lagertha had bought from that nuisance of a slave trader. She was quite a sight with her long unusual red hair, small cheerful brown eyes and the curvy body the dull brown dress could not hide. She had been assigned to serve at feasts and all of them had set their eyes on her, waiting for the right moment to make a move. She now laughed bubbly as she scrubbed the wet cloths against a wooden plank with the warm wind blowing her hair, making it resemble a flaring fire.

“Beautiful”, Sigurd breathed and they knew he was talking about her.

“Yes”, agreed Hvitserk with a smirk, “a pretty little thing.”

“Easy to ravish”, chuckled Ubbe and licked his lips sensually.

“She is mine, I saw her first”, grumbled Sigurd.

“No, brother, it was the blind slave you discovered first. Maybe you two could have some fun and leave this one to us”, laughed Hvitserk, his eyes not leaving the red-headed slave’s behind, who had bent to grab a fallen cloth from the ground.

“How about I leave that to Ivar, who actually bought her?”, Sigurd murmured quickly, eager to escape the teasing. “Well, I will be off”, he announced and glanced at the beautiful slave one last time.

Ivar, having unleashed his anger and negative emotions during the training, did not bother to return his brother’s weak insult. The blind girl was not among those in the group anyway. He simply shrugged at his two other brothers, who seemed surprised by his lack of reaction, got down from the log he had been sitting on this whole time and crawled away. 

The feast begun as soon as night had fallen. The Great Hall was cramped with warriors, shieldmaidens, merchants and other wealthy townsfolk. The food and mead was abundant, as well as the available slaves, music was played vigorously and hearty shouts came from the feasting men and women. Lagertha had made a small speech announcing the return of her son and had proceeded to sit on the throne, looking calm and contented. Ivar and his brothers sat on a round table, devouring their food and constantly refilling their cups with mead. Margrethe appeared as always and settled herself on Ubbe’s lap. The latter let out a feral growl and and gave her a mischievous look. Hvitserk and Sigurd seemed to share their brother’s feelings for they set out looking for some company for themselves. Ivar caught with the corner of his eye the redheaded slave of earlier that day filling some cups of mead and he was sure his brothers would not have to look for long. 

He stayed at the table for some time, still eating and drinking, but he quickly got bored, for he himself had no-one to keep him company. Not that he particularly wished for any, but it was a feast and he certainly did not want to be on the fringes of it. He waited a little bit but no-one came to greet him or talk to him. For a brief second he contemplated the thought of summoning a slave, but the traumatic memory of his failure with Margrethe instantly returned to haunt him. He let out a deep sigh and decided that he would go outside and breathe some fresh air and then probably call it a night. He felt utterly ashamed of the possibility of being the only man, who, like a child, would return alone to his bed this night.

He departed from the feast unnoticed, and that disappointed him, since he had hoped someone would see him leaving and invite him to their table. He comforted himself with the thought that he could have been invited by someone he disliked or despised and his disappointment waned a bit. He chose to go far away from the Great Hall, feeling bitter, and headed to the haven where their ships were anchored. Surely, this place would be deserted, for it was next to the market and no-one was there at such hours other than some drunken fools who vomit their night away.

It was a beautiful night. Very, very beautiful, indeed. Even Ivar, the ever grumpy man, smiled at the sight of the starry sky. The stars were illuminating brightly, giving it a vibrant, celebratory atmosphere. It was one of the last days of autumn, yet a warm breeze blew and kissed his skin. He felt goosebumps form on his skin at the warmth’s touch and he chuckled softly. He felt as though he were a child again, when everything was magical and unexplored and nature was an exciting mystery. He arrived at the haven and sat at the edge of the wooden floorboards, his legs hanging above the sea. 

It was the moon that dominated the picture that night though, not the stars. It was huge and full and it shone aggressively, powerfully casting its pale light upon the dark earth. It indeed looked so powerful, so significant, the moon. Was there any god that mastered it? ‘There must be one’, Ivar thought and then wondered why he could not remember. He stared at the sea water which softly rippled with the gentle breeze. He could distinguish his reflection in its surface and grimaced, for it somehow reminded him of his countless burdens. 

When something else caught his eye. 

It seemed he was not alone. At his right, a little bit further from him, a young woman was also sitting at the floorboards. The mere sight of her turned Ivar’s blood to smoke. She seemed not to have noticed his arrival, she was gazing at the horizon with an expression of bittersweet longing. The luminous light of the moon fell on her softly, hugging her, creating pale shadows on her small, elegant face. She had something divine in her looks and the way she sat, calmly, gracefully. She was so beautiful, so serene, so...magical, Ivar had never quite seen such a woman.

Perhaps she was a moon deity, Ivar reluctantly proposed to himself.

Wait...he knew this face...

It suddenly dawned to him that the woman was no other than the blind slave. He was not mistaken, it was surely her, her long brown hair blowing loose in the warm wind. Her beautiful moonlit face revealed a slightly upturned nose, pink lips and cheeks and the two big shining eyes of grey. He gawked at her, completely enchanted by a woman for the first time in his life. She still sat there in a graceful serenity, her knees drawn to her chest and her face facing forward, absorbed in her own trance. Oh, what was she thinking?

And then she turned to his direction, finally noticing him. He was caught by surprise even though he was still staring at her. She did not speak, but after a minute she smiled widely, her cheeks reddening. He did not utter a word, too astonished to do so.

“Greetings, Prince Ivar”, she spoke at last, her soft voice barely loud enough to be heard.

Ivar panicked. She had recognized him, she did! He knew not what to say. He stummered. ‘Take hold of yourself’ he thought, ‘it is just a woman. A slave for Odin’s sake!’

There was silence. Ivar grew annoyed. There had been too many awkward silences that day, it was tiring to always have to break them.

“Why are you neglecting your duties?”, he whispered harshly, after drawing a big breath to muster his voice, in fear that it might waver.

She still faced him, silent, flushed, and he still stared at her, anticipating an answer, not knowing what to do.

.....................

It had been a long day. Queen Lagertha had ordered a feast be prepared and Haldis’s precence had been especially requested in the kitchen...as usual. Throughout the day she had lost count of have many vegetables she had peeled and chopped, how many stews she had stirred and heated up and how many times she had sweeped the filthy kitchen.

By the time nightfall had arrived she felt so exhausted, she barely had any energy to move around. And as if that had not been enough she had received one good slap from Berit, whom she had accidentally mistaken for Saga in a moment of weakness.

Dagny had found her sleeping on the floor like dead and had shaken her awake. She gave her the usual portion of stale bread and half a damned onion, which made Haldis smile with remembrance. Dagny was quite young, she could sense, not yet an adult. She chatted softly, as always, but sounded nervous, as if she was hiding something. And Haldis found out soon enough that she was right, for suddenly Dagny paused her talking, producing an item from her cloak. 

“You know what this is, Haldis?”, she spoke, lowering her voice, “It is mead, I managed to snatch it from the Great Hall. Want some?”, she explained and unclasped the cap of the flask.

Haldis had never really drunk mead. It had never been allowed to her, and she hesitated to accept the offer, since she suspected she had been denied it for a reason. But she was tired and hungry, reason was unimportant and the temptation was too much to resist. Dagny handed her the flask and Haldis brought it to her lips. The honeyed liquid was delicious and warm, overwhelming. Now Haldis understood why men never part with it, for it evoked some kind of comforting feeling, a promise of eternal company. Dagny sipped in her turn, looking accustomed to the effects of the strong drink.

They drunk and drunk, until the flask was well empty. Haldis felt a haze form in her head and her senses blurred. She felt bubbly and a strong urge to giggle. Dagny seemed alright, but Haldis longed for fresh air, her throat burned and her head throbbed in pain. She might not have drunk much but it had been her first time and it made her feel sick. She slurred her request to go outside and Dagny assisted her.

“Do you want me to accompany you?”, she asked, looking around, wary of who might see them.

“No, no, I will be alright, I will walk for a bit”, Haldis managed to whisper. She already felt better now that she was in direct contact with the refreshing warm air. She only hoped no-one would notice her absence, but everyone was so distracted by the feast that a missing slave was as insignificant as an empty horn of mead. Replaceable.

They parted ways and Haldis stumbled for a minute, coming to the realization that since her arrival in Kattegat she had never walked around, and thus, she had no idea where to head. But her mind was still too foggy and dizzy to think reasonably and instead of heading to the sleeping room, she headed...to the unknown. She went where her legs took her and upon reaching what seemed to be a haven, she sat down to calm herself. 

And indeed, her surroundings were so peaceful that she stayed there in absolute contentment. The warm wind and the sound of the moving water under her feet were her only companions and she felt happy knowing she was not alone. Nature would always accompany her and offer her what she needed. Even under the spell of mead she could sense the stars and the moon radiating, reminding the world of how welcoming night can be. Indeed, wayfarers always sung about their adventures in the night, not in the day. She smiled nostalgically, her head felt hot and her throat still burned, but a sweet memory had come to her. Her grandma loved the night, and she would always tell her she felt more alive during it. She would explain how strong she felt when knowing that the moon was watching over her and the stars were her allies.

‘When the moon shines, little Haldis, I will be with you...’

And little Haldis would listen, not really understanding, but now she understood.

‘Grandma...I like the night too...I feel strong too...I am with you...’

Tears had formed in her eyes and slid down her cheek, their taste bittersweet. 

Well, the strength part was probably an illusion created by the mead, for in actual fact, she was exhausted. She drew her knees to her chest, still thinking of her grandma fondly. 

How much time had she stayed there? She did not know. How would she get back? Again, she had no idea. Did she have to go back? Absolutely. Did she want to go back? No way. She wanted to stay there, under the moonshine and the protection of her grandma, forever and always.

She heard someone approaching. She held her breath and waited to see if she could identify them by their way of walking. She hoped it was no-one she did not know. And she did recognize them. He was crawling, it was Prince Ivar. She flushed and shuddered. She wished for him not to notice her. Who knew what he would do to her if he discovered she was not working? He would assume she was attempting to escape and she would be punished. She dared not move, not make the slightest sound. 

The moon was still shining. The stars were still twinkling. Her grandmother was still there. And out of the blue, she relaxed. Her fear vanished. As though this moment was meant to be. Or perhaps it was the mead. She wanted to face him in the eyes and talk to him, and what was to stop her? There was no way he had not seen her, they were only a few steps apart. She wanted to hear his voice and find out if it could be soft. It could not always be harsh.

She did turn her face to his direction. She heard him gasp softly, he had seen her, he could have been staring. And that made her smile. Should she acknowledge his presence? Her half-numbed mind was not sure. Her heart said yes.

“Greetings, Prince Ivar”, she chose to speak quietly, for fear she might be heard by some unwanted stranger. He did not respond, but he was nervous. His breathing was quick, forced. She found herself blushing and wishing to get closer to him. She did not move though. The silence was making her uneasy.

“Why are you neglecting your duties?”, he finally spoke, his tone was obviously meant to be firm, but she did notice a small tremble in it.

“I am not neglecting them. I was not needed”, she answered with newly-found confidence in her voice. She felt elated but she was not sure why.

“Perhaps...you are trying to escape?”, he asked suspiciously. He did assume this after all.

“If I was, would I have greeted you?”, she smirked.

“I suppose not”, he admitted skeptically.

“I would go back anyway. Freedom is only earned by hard work and that is what I intend to do”, she confided her dream without thinking twice.

“And you work hard?”

She was not offended, for his tone had not been rude, it just hinted surprise.

“Of course. Like anyone else. Except the kitchen girls”, she made a dismissing motion with her hand, “they have found other things to occupy themselves.”

Silence again, but this time it was comfortable.

“How beautiful must be the moonshine!”, she whispered, facing the bright night sky once again.

“The moonlight?”

“The moonlight, yes. My grandma used to call it moonshine, when the moon was so bright, so strong. She used to say that the moon always watches over the dreamers” she giggled and raised her hands in the air, “And the breeze is so comforting. I wish I could stay like this forever!”

He chuckled and her heart leapt. It was a beautiful sound. 

“You are trying to escape then...”, he said teasingly.

“Oh, yes, the moon shall save me!”, she waved her hands in a dramatic motion and laughed.

He did not say anything, probably concentrating on his own thoughts, but she wanted to talk more. She was curious. About his story.

“Does it ever hurt?”, she dared to ask softly after a long pause. Curiously enough, she did not feel afraid of his potential reaction.

“Where?”, he asked, surprised. She pointed at his legs. He stayed silent for a while.

“It does”, he finally answered, trying to sound indifferent but failing, “always.”

“Oh...”

“Do your eyes hurt?”, he shifted the conversation away from his legs by asking about her inability. He was vulnerable. His voice was smooth, soft, calming.

“Sometimes”, she faced the sky, “but not here”, she pointed at her eyes.

“Where?”, he sounded interested.

“Here”, she placed her hand on her chest, where her heart was. “Sometimes it hurts here.”

“You seem to cope just fine”, he added quickly. Well, he clearly was no sentimental person.

“Not everything is what it seems, prince Ivar. But I do cope as well as I can. I cannot change my fate.”

“My fate is cruel and unfair”, he grunted, “but I will change it.”

It was said in a very low voice but Haldis heard it. Somehow his statement upset her, the burning in her throat had yet to stop.

“You do not appreciate your fate?”

“Do I look like I enjoy being a cripple, slave?”, he snapped.

“You seem to cope just fine, prince”, she repeated his previous words, a little bit ironically.

“What would you know? You said your eyes do not hurt. And you can walk”, he exclaimed angrily, “You might like your own fate, but I cannot, and I will not, stand unfairness. And I have fought hard to get where I am today. You have no idea how hard my life is.”

As he talked, Haldis felt hot and a strange elevating anger had started to build up inside her. He was ungrateful of the privileges he had been given, that was clear, and she could not withstand selfishness. Not when there were people in this world who suffered much more and complained much less. She tried to prevent herself from expressing this dangerous anger, she should not risk offending the prince, she had already said too much. But she failed miserably, mead and passion won the fight. 

She came to sit closer and turned to face him, her whole face flushed.

“Fate is inexorable, life is unpredictable and unfairness is bitter, that is true, Prince Ivar!”, she spoke passionately, “You wish to control your fate, no? But still have you ever known someone who fought against all odds and gained control of their fate?”

He did not answer, taken aback, captivated.

“I should think so too! I have tried to fight it before. But what is the point of fighting fate anyway? You crave the day you will conquer it. Why? Do you see yourself as a coward if you stand still and accept what is to come?”, she clasped her hands together and held them to her chest, “I think, no, I really do believe true bravery is accepting everything as it is and strive to make the best of it, not struggle to change it.”

She paused, waiting for him to comment, but nothing came. She continued, unable to control herself, this whirlwind of powerful emotion overwhelming her.

“That is real bravery to me and I would consider myself a coward only if I ever gave up what I have been given by the gods. Or rather what I have not been given. And with all due respect, Prince Ivar, I would advise you to do the same, rather than lying around and contemplating the tragedy and unfairness of it all”, her tone was reprimanding and Ivar was at a loss for words, “It is selfish, oh so very selfish, to think that you are the only one suffering. We all do. We all truly do. But, unlike you, we do not let it turn us into ever-complaining, miserable creatures!”

And with that daring claim, Haldis got up, dignified, determined. And for the first time since she had arrived in Kattegat, she left the prince in a state of shock, him gazing at her with his eyes and mouth wide open.

She walked away from the haven, feeling frustrated, uncomfortable, dizzy, but above all, ridiculously proud of herself.

And up above, the moon still shone.


	6. Eyes of the soul

The next day Haldis woke up with a strong persistent headache tearing her poor head and a baby lamb eating greedily next to her. It was the morning after the feast and she grunted in an effort to remember what had happened to her the previous night. She could not fathom how and why she had ended up sleeping in the place where the lambs were kept, with a throbbing head and no memory of the night before. She sighed and got up as quickly as she could, not wanting to be found by anyone who would surely report her pitiful state to the intolerable Berit. She grumbled and rubbed her temples to drive the headache away. How could she have forgotten the events of an entire night? She only vaguely remembered the beginning of the feast but nothing after that. Well, there was no point in wasting time trying to evoke forgotten memories. Off to work.

But still, she felt like she had forgotten something important...

She avoided passing by the kitchen, knowing that her presence would be too welcome. She set in helping in clearing the Great Hall, which undoubtedly was a huge mess after the big feast that had been hosted. She grabbed one of the good old brooms and patted her cheek, ordering herself to get it together. She had probably been sweeping for about an hour when Saga appeared out of nowhere, grasping her arm to lead her in a faraway corner of the Great Hall. She was panting and clearly had something exciting to tell. She also smelled oddly, a mixed odor of sweat, mead, and fur. 

“Haldis! You will never guess what happened last night!”, she whispered enthusiastically, scanning their surroundings for any eavesdroppers.

“What of last night?”, Haldis asked tiredly, hoping Saga could give her some information that would shed light on why she could not remember anything. The latter leaned in and whispered in her ear.

“I was taken to bed by prince Hvitserk!”, Saga smiled triumphantly.

“What?”, Haldis gasped a little too loudly, drawing the attention of other slaves in the room. 

“Quiet, Haldis, I do not want them to know!”, Saga reprimanded her, after giving the onlookers a dismissive smile. “Eh, what happened to you?”, she nudged her friend, who had put a hand over her mouth.

“Oh, nothing. Do go on”, Haldis said and chuckled nervously. It was not the fact that a prince had bedded Saga that had shocked her, but the idea that she herself could have been bedded, too. What if someone had hit her in the head and raped her? And then dumbed her with the lambs? That would explain the headache, the memory loss and the physical exhaustion. She had found no blood, of course, but she had nothing to disprove this idea. Oh gods!

“Oh, there is not much to tell, really”, claimed Saga but her voice revealed the exact opposite. “Prince Sigurd approached me while I was serving at the feast. He smiled at me and then asked for my name and told me I was beautiful, gods, he was so sweet! And then he took my hand and whispered something I could not hear and I am telling you, Haldis, my heart was beating so very fast! And then he pulled me into a small corner and kissed me, Haldis, I swear I thought my heart was going to explode! And I thought I would go with him, but then Prince Hvitserk appeared, he interrupted us, not very nice of him to be honest, and looked at me and slapped my butt! Then they started arguing, and I was so confused to even understand what they were saying, but I suppose they were arguing about me? And suddenly, Prince Hvitserk grabbed my arm and told me to make a run for it!”, Saga paused, for she had said that all in one breath and before Haldis could say anything she resumed. “We run and he took me to his room, he kissed me and I told him I was a virgin but he said he did not mind. And then we made love....”, she shrugged, “That’s all!”

Haldis, doing her best to ignore her terrifying thought from earlier, smiled kindly to her redheaded friend. 

“You seem disappointed, Saga. Did he fail to meet your expectations?”, she asked with a smirk.

“Oh no no, it was amazing, it really was, and Prince Hvitserk is gorgeous, though I would have preferred...”, Saga blushed, embarrassed, “...I admit I would rather it had been Prince Sigurd instead”, she said, lowering the volume of her voice.

Haldis grimaced at the thought of Prince Sigurd. She certainly had not forgotten how cruelly he had treated her the day of their arrival, and truth be told, it was no easy thing to forget. She did not wish her friend to be close to that brute of a man, but she did not say anything. Saga would not listen to her anyway. Haldis could only hope Saga would not fall in love with him, but she found that rather improbable since it was Prince Hvitserk the redhead had slept with.

“Did Prince Hvitserk claim you?”, she asked.

“No, he did not, but I cannot say I expected him to. He had already left the room when I woke up in the morning”, Saga shrugged again, “Well, no matter. If we wants me again, he will look for me.”

Haldis thought about the difference between Saga and herself. They had been there for almost two months now and Saga was already waking up in the rooms of princes, covered with warm furs, while she woke up surrounded by lambs and their damned awful feces. Haldis did not feel jealous of Saga, in contrast, she was happy for her, but she could not help but feel bitter towards her own fate. How many years would she have to work to earn her freedom? Haldis doubted-

‘You do not appreciate your fate?’

Haldis gasped as her own voice rung in her head. It felt as though she had said these words somewhere but she could not tell when and to who. It felt recent, not distant. But to who could she have been talking about fate? Of course Haldis thought about her fate often but she would never discuss it with other people as it was a personal and painful matter. But that moment it felt like this sentence, spoken by her own voice, was the missing link to her lost memory. 

Haldis annoyedly shook these thoughts away and focused her attention on Saga, who was still beaming at her, obviously anticipating to talk more about her little adventure.

“Did...did it hurt?”, Haldis asked her, hesitating a bit. She was genuinely curious, though.

Saga gave a small smile. “It hurt a little in the beginning, when the blood came out. But the feeling after that...”, she did not finish, letting Haldis fill the gap on her own. Haldis wondered what it really felt to make love. Was that feeling so beautiful as men and women claimed it to be? She doubted whether she would ever find out. And she doubted if she wanted to find out in the first place.

“Well, good for you. No children though”, Haldis said jokingly as she sensed Berit approaching them. Saga laughed, remembering the rumours of Berit’s cruelty towards pregnant women. 

“Could you imagine her being a mother?”, she whispered to Haldis. “Poor child, it would be traumatized by this dreadful woman.”

“Do not say that. You never know what lies beneath a visible anger...maybe her heart would soften if she were to become a mother”, Haldis whispered back, for even though she deeply disliked Berit, in truth, she pitied her. The old woman hid her pain well behind her bitter words and sour face, but not well enough to fool Haldis. In reality, Berit was a hopelessly sad woman.

“Haldis!”, Berit had come closer and the former jumped, startled.

“Yes?”

“You have been summoned by Prince Ivar. He is expecting you”, grumbled Berit bitterly, clearly believing Haldis had been called to offer...special services.

“Excuse me, who?”, Haldis asked, in disbelief.

“You are as deaf as you are blind, slave! I said Prince Ivar!”, Berit barked with her usual angry tone and turned to reprimand other slaves, who had paused their tasks in order to watch. 

And then it all dawned on Haldis. It all came back, the memory of the night before. The missing link was Prince Ivar. She remembered now, Dagny’s mead, the walk to sober up, the haven and then, Prince Ivar himself. She vaguely remembered that they had talked and that she had departed abruptly. She had been drunk, that’s it, that’s why she could not remember exactly what had happened. But Haldis did not feel relieved at that revelation. On the contrary, a paralyzing terror took over her whole body. Why had she been summoned by Prince Ivar? What had they talked about that night under the moonlight? Perhaps she had angered him somehow...she knew she would be no match for his wrath. She made a desperate effort to remember her words, but remembrance never comes when wanted and especially not when forced.

She begun to tremble as she followed Berit, who begrudgingly led her to a room where Prince Ivar was seated. He motioned to the old woman to leave them alone and after her departure a silence engulfed the room.

“Do you know why you have been summoned, slave?”, he finally broke the silence, his tone rough. How odd, she vividly remembered a smooth soft voice that trembled slightly. Haldis breathed nervously through her nose.

“No, Prince Ivar”, she managed to gain control of her voice, but her heart raced in fear. What had she done? What had she said?

“You do not know?”, his tone was ironic, “then perhaps I, the miserable, ever-complaining coward, should remind you.” 

What did he imply with these words? Haldis did not remember. She could not. She only wanted to run. She only wanted to disappear.

“You dare not say anything now, slave!”, he roared, “Last night though, your little mouth would not close!”, he spat.

“Forgive me, if I said anything offensive, I-“

“Forgive you?”, he laughed, as if the prospect of forgiveness had not even crossed his mind, “You should know one thing, slave, I am not one to forgive.”

She could not reply. She had lost her voice. He looked at her, clearly contemplating something.

“But I will give you a small chance to redeem yourself”, he said cautiously, “Tell me this, slave, did you mean what you said last night?”

“Prince Ivar, last night I was under the influence of mead. I cannot answer your question”, Haldis murmured, slowly regaining her voice, his latest statement giving her a little courage.

“Mead? You had drunk mead?”, he laughed again, amused. He was very angry. No, now that she thought of this, it was hurt she detected in his tone, not anger. Hurt masked by anger.

“Yes, prince, mead. So whatever I said, I take it back.”

“Drunk people have been known to reveal the truth, slave”, he stated dourly.

“Drunk people have also been known of being irrational, prince.”

“Well then”, he beckoned to her to come closer and she obeyed, “let us see what you will say about me now that you are sober. Do you think I am a miserable man?”, he leaned in and she could feel his warm breath on her ear. She shuddered and he noticed, “Be careful of your words, slave”, he leaned back, smirking smugly. That had been a threat.

“I cannot tell you, not if I do not know you. What I said last night was an accident and perhaps I was talking about someone else”, lied Haldis, even though she still did not remember her words. But she had confidence in herself. If she had said something so upsetting, then it had probably been the truth, for the truth is always harsh.

“Miserable or not, I have the power to snap you in two or burn you alive for what you have said, even if you were talking about your grandfather”, he said sarcastically. 

“My grandfather was a kind man and, thank the gods, he died happy”, Haldis answered equally as sarcastically, no longer afraid. There was something in his voice, a vulnerability, a weakness, a pain that was plainly visible to her. She could always see the pain in others. It was a gift she had always had. Her soul’s eyes were as watchful and as observant as Berit’s bodily ones. And nothing ever missed them.

“Do not insult me!”, he barked, noticing the change in her demeanor, “I can kill you for this, and let me tell you, I enjoy killing more than anything else!”

“I will be happy to offer my services to you, prince. You bought me after all, I am obliged to you”, Haldis said calmly. If she was to die by his hands, then so be it.

He did not answer, shocked by her rudeness and by her lack of dramatic reaction, which he had surely anticipated. 

“You do not deserved to be killed, no. You should suffer”, he growled, “I will sculpt your mouth off your face. That will teach you to insult me. Me, the feared Ivar the Boneless!”

“Less talking is more working, they say.”

“I will burn your ears.”

“Again, less is more.”

“But what will you have then? What then?”, he shouted, raising his hands in the air, infuriated.

“My sight”, Haldis smirked. Maybe she was provoking him too much. But she could not stop. He was vulnerable and she was winning.

“You can’t see!”

“Of course I can.”

“You can’t, your eyes do not work!”

“Oh, you are talking about these eyes? Yes, they do not work. But still, I can see.”

“H-how?”, he inquired, getting tired.

“My true eyes are here”, she pointed her finger at the back of her head, where her brain was, “and here”, she put her hand over her heart.

“Impossible!”, he protested, incredulous.

“I will prove it to you. I know that your eyes are blue.”

He gasped, “It’s true. How did you ‘see’ that?”, he emphasized the word ‘see’ with an ironic tone.

“I did not see that, they told me”, she wanted to giggle, but restrained herself.

“You asked for the colour of my eyes?”, his voice held a spark of hopefulness.

“Not exactly.”

He struggled to find something to say back to her. Haldis smiled in triumph. She had won.

“...I could kill you...”, he repeated, exasperated, unable to come up with something witty or terrifying, at least, to say. 

“I know”, she answered softly.

“Do I not scare you?”, he demanded as softly as her.

“No...not really”, her statement was neither true nor false.

He had started to drop his guard. He was not scary anymore. He was just a man in front of a woman. A lonely, pained man in front of a lonely, pained woman.

“People fear me. And they should”, he muttered.

“Your enemies probably should. Not your friends though.”

“I do not have friends”, he admitted bitterly.

“...I could be one.”

Even for her momentary courage that was too much. But she had decided to cross the line. And as though it was a miracle, she suddenly remembered everything. Everything she had said the previous night. Everything he had said. Being with him then, it had felt beautiful. He had been relaxed then, even kind.

He was currently gaping at her, open-mouthed.

“You are a slave”, he pointed out harshly.

“I was not always a slave.”

“Are you asking for your freedom?”

“No.”

“What is your name?”, he asked thoughtfully, after a short pause.

“Haldis.”

“Haldis. The goddess of stones.”

She nodded. That was what her name meant.

“It suits you”, he commented. Haldis smiled.

“I will take that as a compliment, Prince Ivar.”

“Do what you will”, he said in an absent-minded tone, for he was in thought. “I am not going to kill you”, he announced after a while.

“Thank you”, she breathed a sigh of relief, for despite her display of cheekiness, she had dreaded his decision.

He dismissed her expression of gratitude with a jerk of his hand.

“But I will not forgive you for what you said, for you insulted me. That is a punishable offense but I am not in the mood to neither kill nor torture today”, he shrugged, “Consider yourself lucky, Haldis.”

Haldis gave a small smile of appreciation. “I do, prince Ivar, I do.”

She waited for him to dismiss her. She anticipated the moment she would exit the tent and break into a run and hide herself, for she wanted to laugh and weep at the same time. Laugh for she had stood up for herself and won the fight and weep for she had seen a terrible loneliness in that man’s heart. She could not bear to witness someone struggle with something as bitter as loneliness, when she knew that it could be healed. She knew, oh she felt, that there was no true malice in these blue eyes. There was only a pain, a pain that could be tended to and healed. She had seen it. And she understood him. For she herself was tormented by such a lonely pain. They were of the same kind, he and her. So she waited with a trembling heart, so she could find some dark corner and weep in frustration and tiredness.

But he did not dismiss her. He still sat in his seat, in thought, as if her presence had been forgotten or utterly ignored. She was standing still, unmoving in an effort to make no sound. Why was he keeping her inside? Was this a way to punish her for her impertinent behaviour? Her lip started to quiver and before she could repress it a whimper came out. And then, as if he suddenly was reminded of her presence, he raised his head and spoke. His voice was not wrathful anymore. Just tired.

“Tell me, Haldis, are you truly and completely blind?”

She only nodded in response.

“But you can move around, you can work and recognize people. How?”

She told him. She reminded him of their others senses and how she had been taught how to use them to their full advantage. She told him of her ability to read palms and faces. She told him how she had kept going no matter the pain, with the help and support of her grandmother. For she could truly see, just not in the way everyone else could. Haldis saw with her mind and heart. 

And he listened. He did not interrupt, he did not express even the slightest feeling of disbelief. And he let her come and sit close to him, while she was talking. She could feel his burning gaze at her and she wondered how blue were his eyes. Like the sea? Or like the sky? She could feel that they were deep and intense and she blushed when she finished her talking. Only then did he speak again.

“You said you touch in order to know how one looks.”

She nodded once again. She could not foresee where he was going with this. Her blush burned her cheeks in an oddly pleasant way. So did his steady gaze.

“You once asked to know about my looks, did you not?”

“I do not entirely deny it, my prince.”

She heard him take a deep intake of breath.

“Haldis, from what I gather, you can read one’s future through their palms and faces. If you read my future and tell me of it, then, I will dismiss you with no task and with no punishment”, his voice was light and a little nervous, not at all threatening. He wanted to know about his future and he had assumed she could do it, just like Saga had before him. But she could not give him that, she could not ease his worry about what was to come. 

She opened her mouth to deny his request and explain to him that she was only able to just read him, the person that was Ivar The Boneless. But she did not find the words. Instead, she slowly raised her hands to grab one of his. Both of their hands were warm since they were in the tent and isolated from the chilling cold of the approaching winter. She clasped his hand tightly and left it there to give him the impression that she was hesitating. And indeed, she was in thought. The skin of his palm was calloused and rough and she internally wondered if his face was the same. She wished to know. And she would soon know.

She released her hold on his hand and ever-slowly, almost laboriously, brought her hands to his face. He flinched, even though her slow pace had given him time to prepare for her touch. She could sense his breathing become unsteady, she could feel his nervousness increase. But she was not nervous. It felt right. It felt as though it was meant to be. She traced the strong lines of his face, the hard-boned nose, the long forehead, the line of his plump lips, unwillingly letting her fingers linger on them a little longer than she should. And he allowed it, despite the nervousness that seemed to have overwhelmed his whole body, which had stiffed under her touch.

Haldis abruptly withdrew her hands and shrunk away from him. Prince Ivar took it as a sign that her reading was done.

“What have you read?”, he inquired anxiously.

“You will reach glory if you keep fighting, my prince. The pain shall not drag you down”, she answered in a slow voice.

He seemed to be satisfied by her answer, she could sense the spark in his eyes. Surely, her words had validated some thought or ambition of his.

“Is that all?”, he asked, licking his lips.

“It is, my prince.”

She had hesitated and he noticed.

“Are you sure?”, he asked again, raising his eyebrow and the volume of his voice slightly.

“Entirely”, her voice was feeble, but he did not press her further.

“Then, you are free to go.”

Haldis immediately sprang up towards the direction of the exit. She no longer had the desire to laugh nor weep. She just wished to sleep to get her thoughts in order, process what had happened and, most importantly, tame her wild-racing heart. Gods, what a day it had been...

“And, Haldis?”, he called her, and she could feel him smiling wickedly.

“Yes, my prince?”

“I advise you not to stay around the lambs for too long. They smell.”


	7. The blind god

Ivar had never quite met someone like her. Someone like the blind slave girl, Haldis was her name apparently. He believed the name suited her, he did. It meant goddess of stones and he thought that this girl, like a rock, had a reasonable amount of strength, for she had dared to speak to him in a way that not even his brothers would. Truly, she had taken him by surprise in many respects.

When he had bought her, he had quickly jumped to the conclusion that she was frail and weak. She was blind, therefore a cripple in a way, and cripples are considered weak if they do not do anything to prove their strength to the world. That day Sigurd had treated her badly and Ivar had found her attempt to stand up for herself petty. Actions speak louder than words and even though she had asserted she was very well capable of taking care of herself, she had done nothing to prove this. If it had not been for Ivar, he knew, Haldis would have had to face the fury of the slave trader and people like that despicable man were very well known for their cruelty.

He had thought no further of her, but one day, as though he had been struck by lightning, he had started to think of her. To wonder and be curious about her, and that had very much frustrated him, for he wanted to have nothing to do with a slave. But the mere sight of her evoked some sort of strange feeling in Ivar, one of familiarity and longing. An equally strange instinct hinted him she could be trusted, that there was something rare in her, something that he was long looking for. And even though he would dismiss his thoughts with much annoyance, her image always came to his mind, not to haunt him, but lighten his mood.

And then he had found her at the haven. That night she had been so beautiful, so lovely...he had been awestruck. She had calmly greeted him, they had talked for a while, and he had been so astounded to hear his own voice speak naturally and softly about himself and his legs. They had conversed and he had felt no resentment, hate nor anger towards her. He had felt peaceful and at ease and honestly, he had liked it. The atmosphere had been very alluring, her sweet voice had had a soothing tone to it, her giggles ringed pleasantly in his mind. But suddenly their conversation took another turn, about their fates. She had mentioned that she could and would do nothing to change her painful fate and he contradicted her, claiming that he would change his, no matter how much he would have to fight. It must have been something he had said, for she had snapped at him angrily, making a speech about fighting fate, true braveness and cowardice. She accused him of being a selfish, miserable fool and before he could have had the chance to protest or insult her back, she had got up and left. He had been too thunderstruck to chase her and punish her for her rude words.

He had stayed there for a lot of time afterwards, abstractedly staring at the starlit sky, recalling her words. He dared not admit it, but her accusation pained him strangely on the chest. Where the heart was. He had done nothing wrong! He had spoken the truth, what he believed that is, and this is what he received for his honesty? For his willingness to talk with her and let her wander around freely? This is what he received for being himself? It burned, oh, it burned.

He had returned to his bed, defeated and furious to no end. He tried to get some sleep, but her image, her words, kept coming back, this time to haunt him. He rolled around his bed, perturbed, but sleep would not come to him. He only managed to fall asleep just before the dawn, but it was a restless light sleep that failed to relax him. And when he woke up he felt grumpier and gloomier than ever. It took him almost half a day to actually decide to summon her, afraid that his brothers would later taunt him endlessly if they witnessed her entering Ivar’s room. He finally managed to muster the courage to have her sent to him and he swore to himself that he would be merciless. She had upset him too much to be forgiven.

When Haldis entered the room, trembling and stinking of lambs, he had felt satisfied knowing that he had an intimidating effect on her. He demanded she accounted for her words and she had the audacity to pretend she could not remember. The nerve that girl had! He ordered, he spat and shouted, but she insisted on claiming she had been drunk on mead. Even though that had amused him, he could not tolerate such a display of impertinence and disobedience from a mere slave. To him! Ivar the Boneless, challenged by a blind slave! Gods forbid! And if that had not been enough to anger him, she no longer seemed scared of his presence and thundering demeanor. He felt too tired, however, to punish her by torturing, so he hesitantly announced his decision to show mercy. 

Since she claimed to have been affected by mead that night, he asked her to tell him what she thought of him now that she was sober. He also added a vague threat for good measure. And still, she refused. She said that she could not judge him without getting to know him first. He pressured her and they exchanged a good amount of ironic comments and vague insults. By that time he was fuming and he set on threatening to execute or torture her. Yet, she remained unfazed by the prospect of being deafened, muted or killed, thanking him instead. She assured him that no matter what he did to her, she would keep working, for she always had her sight, something he could never take away from her.

That had been too much for Ivar. He was so accustomed to having gained the upper hand on arguments that he now felt too discouraged to continue arguing, for he knew he was losing. And the moment he gave up on fighting her, their argument smoothly transitioned to a softer and calmer conversation. Again, they talked like they had known each other, like their souls and minds were connected somehow. She offered her friendship and he harshly denied it, masking a spark of unwilling delight that threatened to emerge in his voice. He wanted no one to see through him. He wanted no one to witness the loneliness that he was drowning into. He needed no friend. Only himself.

But his heart desired other things.

He told her he had decided not to kill her, not mentioning the fact that he would not have done that in the first place, though he reminded her that she did not deserve his forgiveness. She seemed grateful and despite his coldness, he felt a pang of relief for her sake. Her smile was so lovable and her ever-shining eyes so pretty. And he suddenly realized he did not feel angry anymore. Only tired. He pretended he was in thought and fixed his gaze on her. She was so small, wasn’t she? How did she walk around if she could not see? How did she recognize people? Was it magic? He continued staring at her shamelessly, his mind wondering faraway. She had begun to look distraught and he bowed his head, questioning himself if he should dismiss her then and there. A whimper fell from her lips and he finally took a decision. He would ask her. He wanted to know more about her.

He had expected her not to answer him. But not only did she answer immediately, she told him everything, more than he had asked for. She explained to him her ways of taking advantage of the other senses in order to navigate herself, work and recognize people. She spoke nostalgically about her grandmother, her voice becoming even sweeter in the mention of her only family, and how she owed it to her that she had become the person that she was today. Haldis even mentioned that she could read palms and faces, an ability which extremely intrigued Ivar.

By the time she had finished, she had come to sit closer to him, and upon realizing it, her whole face flushed. Ivar took pleasure in admiring the liveliness the blush gave to her pale, dirty face. He asked her to demonstrate her ability of reading palms, what if she could foresee something interesting about his future? He had heard tales of mysterious women in the East, who could read palms and instantly foretell important events of one’s life. Haldis could be one of them. He promised to dismiss her if she obeyed. She opened her mouth, as though she wanted to oppose him, but she quickly closed it, changing her mind.

She slowly took hold of his hand, and he was astonished to find that in spite of all the work, the skin of her hand was still soft. Her touch was warm and comforting in a way, but their close proximity made him nervous. She released his hand and he almost pouted, disappointed that their linking hands had lasted so little time, but he quickly got distracted, as Haldis slowly extended both of her hands to the direction of his face. She cupped it gently, but he shuddered and tightened his muscles, images of his awful night with Margrethe flashing before him. He wished he could forget, but he couldn’t. Haldis traced his face with her fingers and when she touched the outline of his lips, he felt an urge to shove her away, but he could not bring himself to.

When she shrunk away, he instantly missed the warmth her soft hands had emitted, but he rushed to question her about what she had read. She told him nothing new, but, like the Seer, she validated that one day he would reach the glory he yearned so much, in spite of all the obstacles that would appear on his way. He licked his lips in contentment and demanded to know whether she had anything else to add. She denied it, but he did notice the hesitation in her voice. He insisted and she denied it again, but he did not press her, his mood lightened by her previous acclamation. He dismissed her, but he could not help himself and decided to tease her before she exited the room, cleverly pointing out that she stunk. She had stummered an embarrassed response and had vanished in a fraction of a second. He smiled to himself, thinking that now they were even, she had won the argument but he had had the last word.

The night that followed, however, was equally as restless as the previous one. He was not tormented by her words anymore, rather he sat still in the dark all night, staring at the ceiling and thinking of his future. Even though he still felt slightly disturbed by her insults the night before, he now thought of her more fondly, reminiscing her mellow voice, which, even when she was angry, did not ring harsh. And with these agreeable thoughts sleep found him and now that he woke up, several hours later than his usual waking time, he brought her to his mind again, realizing how wrong his first impression of her had been.

Ivar gave a yawn and sat up on his bed. Enough now with the slave. He was ravenous, so it was high time he had breakfast.

His brothers were already eating their second portion of food and they greeted him with surprised eyes, for Ivar had never been one to sleep until late in the morning. Ivar scoffed at them and focused on regaining the energy he had lost due to two sleepless nights, paying no attention to Hvitserk and Sigurd, who had started quarreling for the second day in a row. Apparently, Hvitserk had bedded the beautiful red-headed slave and Sigurd was green with envy.

“I approached her first, Hvitserk, she was mine to have!”, Sigurd barked.

“How many times am I going to tell you, brother, I do not care!”, Hvitserk took a big bite off his plate, “Besides she chose to come with me and not stay with you.”

“Chose to stay with you?”, Sigurd growled, “You know very well, brother, that she had no choice!”

“So what, Sigurd, so what?”

“I wanted her, that’s what!”

“Will it make you happy if I said I had a good time?”, Hvitserk boasted.

“Of course not! I wanted to have her that night! And I would have, had you not interrupted us!”

“Listen, here-“

“Ah, enough with you two!”, Ubbe shook the table to stop the argument, “You fight like children! You can simply share, just like we share her”, he motioned to Margrethe who was swiftly approaching. Sigurd left the table, sulking and Hvitserk simply shrugged. Ivar was internally laughing at his brothers’ stupidity. Fighting for a woman like immature children, they did.

After he finished eating, Ivar headed to train. Once again, he unleashed his remaining anger with his axe blows and arrow shooting and he ended the training, panting heavily and soaked in sweat. His breath steamed in the cold air. It was indeed a cold day, a strong reminder that winter was only a few days away. The townsfolk hurried around in frantic attempts to prepare for its arrival; wood was being assembled, weapons were being stored, food was being dried and the last crops were being gathered. The marketplace was overcrowded with eager buyers, the greedy traders bargained for the best prices and the slaves were forced to work harder than ever. 

Speaking of slaves...was that Haldis crouching by the river?

It was her indeed. By now he could recognise those grey eyes and head of brown hair anywhere. She had a pile of clothes on a basket next to her and she was washing them one by one, dipping them into the water. She looked pale and dirty, as always, but her expression was her usual calm one. Ivar approached and stopped behind some bushes to observe her a bit more. She kept working, pausing only occasionally to hug herself to stop her shivering. She must have been really cold, for the weather was more than chilly and her grey dress seemed too thin to keep her sufficiently warm.

She abruptly turned her head to his direction. “I can see you! Reveal yourself!”, she demanded in a firm voice.

Ivar chuckled and crawled forward. “Are you sure you can see me, Haldis?”

She gasped, clearly startled, clutching the wet cloth close to her chest.

“Oh, prince Ivar! Oh, you scared me!”, she breathed a sigh of relief, “I thought it was a stranger.”

“That is why you said you could see me?”

“Of course. You must never reveal your weakness to your enemies”, she smiled, “You are not an enemy, of course”, she added quickly, resuming her task.

He laughed. “Yes, I was thinking about that”, he said thoughtfully.

She raised her head in surprise. “That you are an enemy?”

“No. That we should never show our weaknesses to our enemies. Many strategies have been based on that notion and some have failed to win the battle”, he explained, recalling past times of war and fighting with his father and Floki. Those...those were good times.

“Indeed, because people who adopt this kind of strategy, completely rely on it. But the truth is you can only delay your enemy knowing about your weakness, for it will show eventually”, she twisted a dry dirty cloth, “You see, just now I would have only bought me some time by asserting I had seen the attacker. Had it not been you, prince, and they had attacked, my blindness would soon be exposed.”

“True”, Ivar said, astonished at the woman’s readiness to talk about strategies. Gods, she surprised him more day by day. What was next? Could she fly? Or bring the dead to life? 

He gave a small chuckle, “Then thank the gods that it was me, no?”

She smirked. “I did, prince”, she said softly, but quickly raised an eyebrow, “But what, may I ask, were you doing behind the bushes?”

She still dared to speak up to him. And he had come to accept it now. If it were for another slave he would have had them tortured- and he would not have thought twice about it.

“I had just finished my training, slave. It is none of your business what I was doing.”

She hummed doubtfully and he stole an offended glance at her. She was still working but her entire body was now shivering. Her teeth begun to chatter and she clenched her jaw in order to make it stop. A cold breeze blew and a pile of red and yellow-coloured leaves was scattered around.

“Are you cold?”, he asked gently, though he immediately realized it was a stupid question.

“Of course”, she replied just as softly, “Not everyone has the chance to cover themselves with thick clothes and warm furs”, she said, probably having understood he was very well warm in his winter clothes.

“It is going to be a very cold winter, the say.”

She shrugged, “If I am meant to survive, I will survive. I have been through enough winters to know how to cope with the cold.”

There was silence for a while. Ivar looked around him, enjoying the sight of the barren earth, ready to be engulfed by snow. He did like the winter, he did not mind the cold and he found the emptiness of the land a pleasant sight. The frozen landscapes were his favourite. He had many fond memories of being inside the warm safety of Floki’s hut, watching snow falling outside the window. But that was long ago, when he was only just a child.

“I was thinking”, he broke the silence and she hummed in response, “that you, Haldis, are favoured by the gods.”

She burst into laughter. “Me? Favoured by the gods?”

“Oh yes, you. You are very lucky. Keep in mind that the way you have spoken to me would have gotten any other slave in big”, he chuckled, “and very bloody trouble. But you got away with it and, honestly, I am surprised that I even let it happen. With no doubt, the gods want you alive.”

“I do admit I am lucky I survived your wrath. I did push the limit and I am certain that if it had been for someone else, I would be a good corpse by now”, she chuckled sadly, “But favoured by the gods? I find it too much.”

“There must some god who protects you. Know this, if it were for someone else, not only would you have been spared but bedded too. My brothers do love a good challenge. So do I, but I am not merciful nor do I enjoy being so. You”, he repeated, “are lucky.”

“Maybe it was my fate to remain unharmed by your hand. Fate is inexorable after all”, she shuddered with the cold, “And I have to suffer other tribulations anyway. My fate has already revealed itself to be difficult. Sad, too.”

Ivar sighed. She did love to talk about fate and its tricks, didn’t she? Well, she did love to talk in general.

“I insist. This is the gods’ work. Cripples do not survive so easily. We were tended by the gods, you and I”, he murmured.

“Alas, I, the blind girl protected by the gods!”, she giggled, spreading her hands in the air, as if she called to the gods. Her cheeks and nose were red with cold.

“What if you are under the protection of Hod the Blind? He was cheeky enough, like you”, Ivar kept going on about that idea of his. In truth, he was trying to account to himself for the weakness he had showed in sparing her. Showing compassion was a weakness to him.

“Hod the Blind was a naive fool. He was easily tricked into killing Baldur. I do hope you do not suggest I am like this.”

“Hod the Blind was outsmarted by Loki, that’s true. But he did kill Baldur, which was a great achievement. Your god might be a hero, do you not wish that?”

“It was a foolish achievement, not heroic. It got him killed too and chaos ensued after Baldur’s death. If he is my god, then it means I am an easy prey.”

“Are you not? Sigurd easily detected your distress the day you arrived.”

“Your brother was most kind and I very grateful of the offer he had made me”, Haldis joked sarcastically, earning an angry look from Ivar.

“You are very cheeky”, he grumbled, displeased that she kept challenging his idea, “maybe you are Loki’s favourite. Now, Loki is very great, surely you do not mind his protecting you?”

She tossed the final washed cloth in the straw basket and turned to face him with a deep sigh.

“I do not mind which god likes me and which doesn’t, as long as fate keeps me alive. And anyway, they did not help me when I needed them the most, so clearly I am no one’s favourite”, she stated in an angry tone.

Ivar was taken aback by such dismissive behaviour towards the gods.

“Do you not worship our gods, slave?”, he asked angrily.

Haldis picked up the basket and winced, as her back made a cracking sound.

“Of course I do, my prince. I did not mean that I do not worship our mighty gods and I am sorry if I offended you. It is just...my faith has been put to the test.”

“Why?”

“They did not come to me, when I called them. They failed me.”

“Who said that the gods come to our aid every time they are called?”

“Not to everyone. But to the their favourite? Shouldn’t they have come?”, she gave a teasing smirk, but Ivar did not respond, her attitude slightly getting on his nerves.

She shrugged. “Maybe I have failed them. Maybe it is my fault they did not come to me. Maybe my faith is not strong enough”, she begun walking away, “But it is what it is, prince Ivar, and I cannot change it.”

He followed her with his gaze. She was struggling to carry the heavy basket, so her pace was slow and sluggish. He wondered why she was sent to wash so many clothes alone on such a cold day.

“Who assigned you to do this alone, Haldis?”, he inquired.

She stopped in her tracks and turned her head to his direction, hesitation visible in her face.

“Berit. Why?”

“They usually send more slaves to wash the clothes and I have never seen you in the usual crowd.”

“These were the remnants of yesterday’s wash and I was sent to get it over with”, she sighed deeply, “It is getting colder, I should go.”

She resumed her walking and Ivar, finding no other reason to continue the conversation, decided to head back to the Great Hall. He replayed their conversation in his head, admiring the natural way it had flowed, and that thought brought a smile to his face, because usually his conversations with other people were exasperating. Though her claims about the gods had annoyed him slightly, he had enjoyed their conversation and that surprised him, for she was supposed to be a mere, dull-witted slave. And, he noted with satisfaction, she was no longer coated with lamb odor. She had respected his comment.

Ivar arrived at the feasting hall, where his brothers were just starting their meal. He took a seat and noticed that Sigurd was missing. Someone was undoubtedly bitter today. They ate in silence for some minutes, until Ubbe spoke in a worried voice.

“Brothers”, he begun, “our scouts have notified us that Saxon war bands have been seen marching near our lands.”

“It cannot be, Ubbe. We have reached winter. No war is fought in winter”, Hvitserk exclaimed.

“They have been seen. Could it be that they are luring us into battle?”, Ubbe asked, eyeing Ivar.

“The Saxons have just been taken aback by the fact that we did not avenge our father immediately. They are provoking us, nothing more”, Ivar answered calmly, “They would not have the guts to actually fight us in winter.”

“Then we should fight them. Show them what it means to be a Viking!”, Hvitserk proudly banged on the table with his fist.

“No!”, Ubbe protested, “We are not prepared for battle! Our army has been weakened, our father has been killed and winter is here. We do not have enough men and weapons to march.”

Ivar drank his cup of mead and motioned to a slave to refill it.

“Do not fret, brothers. They will not attack. They know not of our weakness and we will not show it. We will gather our army and march as soon as spring arrives.”

Hvitserk frowned. “How do you know they will not attack, Ivar?”

“Hvitserk, they do not know that we lack men. Do you think a few petty war bands will attack?”

“That is true”, Ubbe relaxed, leaning back in his seat. “But what is wrong with you, brother? I thought you wanted battle at all costs, even in winter.”

Ivar smirked and brought the cup to his lips. “You can say I changed my mind. The gods spoke to me.”

He eyed his brothers who gaped at him with puzzled eyes and raised his cup.

“Skol.”

He chuckled. Haldis could be of use.


	8. The slowly freezing heart

Winter had finally arrived. It was omnipresent, its cold breath having completely taken over the land with force. Not two days later and it had snowed heavily. Whiteness had covered the land but instead of gifting it with brightness, it filled it with a grey dourness. For those who enjoy gloomy, lifeless landscapes, it was indeed a sight for sore eyes.

Haldis was not one of those people. She loathed the winter with an intense and irrational passion. The unfriendly landscape had never been her concern, but what truly troubled her to no end was the bothersome weather. She would always dread winter’s coming, but the freezing cold that came along with it was her biggest fear. She had many times assumed she would die from the cold, since after her glorious days as a servant had begun, she had never been able to provide herself with warm clothes. With any sufficient clothing at all, that was to say. And as if that was not enough, she had to deal with worrying sicknesses, hunger and insufficient shelter.

Winter was an awful, despicable season and there was no one and nothing that could change her mind. And ironically enough, she had been born on a cold winter night. A night so lonely that in their small, quiet village only her mother’s wails of agony had pierced through the crystal silence. No villager had come to their aid, all of them too busy warming their frozen limbs next to the blazing fire. Haldis had met life, screeching and red-faced, while her poor mother was leaving her final breaths, laid down on the cold, hard bed, soaked in her own sweat and blood. What a tragic day it had been, her birthday. A life what been brought to the world, while another had left it. Haldis never got to meet her mother, but a small part of her conscience had always been heavy with the thought she herself was probably the cause of the woman’s death. Her mother had been a sickly and frail pregnant woman and the actual birth had killed her. 

Of course, her grandmother had not blamed her not to even once, saying that it was only the gods’ will, nothing more. But Haldis could not help but wonder how different life would have been, had her mother lived. Perhaps she would not be a slave now. Perhaps she would still be living in her village, managing her grandmother’s healer hut, surrounded by the familiar warmth of fire and the sweet smell of home-cooked stew. Perhaps she would have been happy, happy and free. But there was no way for her to know what life might have been like. It had taken a different turn and she was inclined to accept it, as painful as it was. 

It was just one more winter. She would endure the ordeal patiently and survive. Like always.

She was currently cooking stew, the third pot out of the five she had been ordered to have prepared by noon. She followed her grandmother’s beloved recipe, in which the stew was sweeter due to the honey she added. And for once in her time in Kattegat, the kitchen girls fussed around her, some commenting obnoxiously and others chattering as if they had never witnessed stew being cooked before.

“You have made it very sweet, Haldis”, one of them stated grandly, “Berit is going to be very displeased”, she added with a malevolent tone and the others hummed in agreement. Haldis was tempted to put her in her place, but restrained herself so as not to cause trouble. It was definitely not a time to get herself resold or thrown on the streets.

“Surely, I would have made it better”, the stuck-up kitchen girl declared and Haldis was unable to stop herself from responding.

“I do not doubt it. It was your duty, was it not?”, she asked frigidly.

The kitchen girl was taken aback and reddened at the backhanded insult.

Haldis scoffed lightly. “I thought so”, she added and focused back on her work. Berit had specifically requested she helped the girls complete the task and all of them had seen it as a fine opportunity to rest. But anyway, the more work she did, the more she was in Berit’s good books and the others girls were more than happy to be well rid of their tasks. Haldis just ought to put up with their fiddling around her.

Suddenly someone burst the kitchen door open.

“Haldis!”, a female voice called.

Obviously, it was Saga, energetic and loud as usual. Haldis wondered what sort of news she was bringing to her this time. She had lost count of how many times the redhead had come running to her, exuberant and breathless, eager to give her some kind of news, gossip and rumours. Saga was very well adapting to her new status as one of the favourite thralls of the princes. In the course of one week, both Hvitserk and Ubbe had slept with her, much to Margrethe’s dismay, who took much care in keeping Saga close by. Haldis had attempted to warn her of Margrethe’s questionable motives, but Saga had dismissed her worries. She expressed her sympathy for the blond slave, who had been very kind to her and had answered all her questions about the princes. Haldis had begrudgingly and involuntary listened to Saga’s recounts of her lengthy conversations with the blond thrall. It was clear that the only thing left for her to do was to hope that Saga would eventually turn sensible and burn her bridges with Margrethe.

Saga grabbed Haldis’s wrist and and proceeded to pull her out of the room forcefully.

“Saga, I have work to do!”, Haldis made an effort to protest, irritated by her friend’s forcefulness.

“Work can wait, Haldis, I have some very, very”, she emphasized her words, “very important things to tell you. Besides, of what use are the actual kitchen girls if you do all their work?”

“But-“

“There are no buts. They are called kitchen girls for a reason and I cannot wait one hundred years to speak to you for five, simple minutes.”

“Berit ordered me to help them. I do not know about you, but I don’t want to risk angering her and having her throw me away”, Haldis complained.

Saga made an annoyed gesture with her hand. “Who said anything about being thrown away by Berit? Let me tell you, Haldis, she is too busy barking at the young ones to notice what you are up to.”

Haldis sighed, agitated with Saga’s carelessness. “I want to survive the winter, Saga, and in order to achieve that, I must stay here.”

“Of course you will stay here, Haldis, and of course you will survive the winter. Stop making every situation sound so dramatic and just listen to me”, Saga said with finality and stopped walking. She took a deep breath and leaned in on the wall, beckoning to Haldis to do the same. The latter, offended by the other girl’s words but defeated, followed suit and waited for the woman to start talking. 

“I slept with him”, Saga whispered after a minute of nervous breathing.

“Who?”

“Prince Sigurd. We made love. He was kind to me, Haldis, very kind. He is different than his brothers. We talked just a little and he played music for me. He even laid with me until late in the morning.”

Haldis made an unreadable grimace as she recalled the events that had occurred two days before. Saga had come to her, frantic with excitement and begging for help. She had explained that Prince Sigurd had motioned to her to follow him and based on his movements, she had assumed she should do it in secret. So she had begged Haldis to finish an incomplete task of hers, so she could go with him. Haldis had agreed, albeit unwillingly, to lend a helping hand and had ended up washing a basket full of unbelievably dirty clothes in a freezing river. Only the gods knew how cold she had felt that day, the last day of autumn. And worst of all, she had lied to Prince Ivar quite unnecessarily, telling him that Berit had sent her to wash the clothes. He had seen her in the forest, had approached her and had casually begun conversing with her. And he had seen right through her. 

Haldis smiled at the thought of Prince Ivar, his mellifluous voice and unpredictable personality. He had not been a horrid company, quite the contrary, there was something about him, something intriguing and ingenious. When angry, he was intolerable, but she had enjoyed talking to him and teasing him slightly.

“He was ever so kind, Haldis. Not at all brutish. He kept telling me how beautiful I was. He did not claim me, but asked me to meet him today in the forest again. I do not quite understand why he is so secretive about it, though”, Saga brought her back to earth with her low chattering.

Haldis raised an eyebrow, purposefully ignoring the praises given to Prince Sigurd. “Did you bring me all this way to tell me just this?”

Saga gave a faint smile and nudged her playfully in the arm. “Now, don’t be peevish, Haldis. Do not hold a grudge against him for what he did that day. It was awful, yes, but the man I saw and talked with was entirely different.”

“What if he was putting on a show?”, Haldis insisted stubbornly. Prince Sigurd had treated her cruelly and she would not change her opinion of him just because Saga had claimed he had been kinder than others.

“Don’t speak as though he is your enemy, because he isn’t. Has he bothered you again ever since we got here? He has not, so clearly that day was an exception.”

“Don’t account for his behaviour, Saga, and for Odin’s sake, do not be so quick to trust people”, Haldis reprimanded her with a sour expression, “It is already enough that you trust Margrethe as if she were a close friend.”

“Margrethe has become my friend, whether you like it or not, Haldis. She too knows how hard a slave’s life can be and she is good company. We spend a lot of time together now that I serve the princes. And”, there Saga lowered the volume of her voice, “she confessed to me that she is in love with Prince Ubbe. I do not want to hurt her feelings, so I promised I would not sleep with him again.”

‘Very well manipulated you were’, Haldis thought bitterly but did not express it. Perhaps Margrethe would later fall in love with Prince Hvitserk, Prince Sigurd and Prince Ivar simultaneously and Saga would end up with no one to sleep with.

Some noises echoed in the distance, mainly voices and laughter. They were standing in a small, twisted corner of the Great Hall, where they were not visible easily enough, while they had a clear view of the whole hall.

“I just wish you were more careful, that is all”, Haldis murmured to Saga, who took her hand and squeezed it firmly.

“I know, dear Haldis, I know. Thank you for caring. And thank you for helping me when I was in need of you.”

Haldis giggled. “Don’t mention it, you redheaded troublemaker.”

Saga cast a sidelong glance at the hall and breathed deeply.

“You must be careful too”, she said cautiously.

“What do you mean?”, Haldis asked, though she strongly suspected this had to do with Prince Ivar, who she assumed was in the back of the hall. She was pretty certain she had heard his voice.

“You must be wary of him”, Saga answered, as if she had guessed what Haldis was thinking, “Margrethe told me he is very cruel and bloodthirsty. Don’t trust him, Haldis.”

“He is not like this”, Haldis protested, “We talked”, she added vaguely, realizing she had just used the same argument Saga had used to defend Prince Sigurd minutes ago. What comes around goes around, apparently.

“He threatened to kill you, to torture you! And you have not seen his eyes, Haldis, they are so...”, she paused, struggling to find the word, “...malicious! He has treated Margrethe awfully in the past. He is a bad man.”

“And why is threatening to torture a slave a surprising thing? Slaves have been mistreated since the beginning of time, Saga, and if you have been taught to mistreat them, you will not hesitate to do so. And anyway, he did not even touch me in the end. We only talked and that’s it”, Haldis crossed her hands on her chest, “And who said that Margrethe is not lying?”

“Margrethe has no reason to lie, Haldis.”

“You are wrong, she has every reason to.”

“Ah, are we going to waste our day here, arguing about pointless matters?”, Saga snapped and breathed in frustration, “As you said, we have work to do. We will talk later”, she patted Haldis’s arm and hurried off to her duties with true devotion. Or most likely to some blond prince, who was patiently waiting for her in the forest. 

Haldis breathed annoyedly in her turn and angrily rubbed the heel of her shoe on the ground. If Saga insisted on acting like a naive child, then Haldis should stop trying to intervene and let her learn from her mistakes. She scoffed at how quickly Saga had abandoned the notion of working hard and had instead plunged blindly into the intrigues of a royal thrall. And how on earth could she possibly find kindness in the face of Prince Sig-

“She must have said something very displeasing for you to frown like this.”

Haldis gasped. The voice had come from the ground, who else could it be other than the notorious Prince Ivar? She had been too absorbed in her thoughts to notice his coming. Would he ever stop appearing out of the blue like this? The day he had found her in the river he had given her a mighty good fright, for he had been hiding behind some bushes like some sort of predator, though only the gods knew for what purpose.

“What?”, she managed to ask, bewildered. 

“The red-haired beauty told you something that upset you, didn’t she?”, he spoke, his voice curiously calm. Perhaps it was one of his good days.

Haldis stattered. “N-no. You saw us?”

“Of course I did”, he answered nonchalantly, “Your pretty friend did not stop peeking at us in the back of the hall. But only I noticed her. Anyway, did she gossip about me?”

“No!”, Haldis exclaimed, her voice accidentally coming out as a shriek, “No, why would you think that, prince?”

He must have smiled for his voice sounded very amused when he spoke.

“She clearly said something about me, for when she glanced at me she was suddenly reminded to tell you something. And by the looks of it, it aggravated you.”

“You were watching us?”, Haldis demanded worriedly, hoping he had not heard of their conversation and her futile attempt to defend his person. She flushed with embarrassment at that thought.

“No, I just happened to spot you two”, he gave her a quizzical look, “But there is nothing to hide, no?”

“Of course there isn’t, prince”, she reassured him and made a swift movement to leave, but he was quicker and grabbed her ankle to stop her.

“Not so fast”, he said loftily, “I need you to do something for me.”

He let go of her and Haldis stood there awkwardly, surprised and curious about his next movement. He was an unpredictable man, alright. But what did she know of him anyway? At the end of the day he was but a stranger.

As of yet, that is.

“Follow me”, he ordered placidly and she obeyed. He led her to the same room he had summoned her a few days before, when he was set to confronting her about the defiant way she had spoken to him. Haldis could not fathom why he was in need of her, nor could she see where she could be proven useful to a prince. She had been bought to cook and clean, nothing more, nothing less.

They entered the room with such an air of solemnity it was as if they were about to attend a formal and serious meeting between kings. He climbed on a chair and folded his hands. She sensed him eyeing her carefully, from head to toe and her heart pounded, made giddy by the unpredictability of his movements and his intense stare.

“Now, Haldis”, he started grandly, “you must be wondering why I brought you here.”

“Naturally, Prince Ivar”, she said anxiously.

“Well”, he chuckled, “do not fret. I only want you to talk to me.”

“Talk to you?”, Haldis gasped, bemused.

“Yes”, he confirmed, “You see, two days ago we had a little chat”, he made a vague gesture with his hand, “about battle tactics, the gods and we also exhausted the topic of fate. And no matter how much you deny it, I believe you are touched by the gods, so I tolerate your endless talking”, Haldis flushed at his comment, “because I was raised to trust the gods and their signs. And your talking to me is a sign.”

Haldis was unable to hide a smirk of amusement that formed on her lips. 

“So you demand I talk...in the gods’ place?”

“Wasn’t my explanation good enough, slave?”, he raised his voice, piqued by her reaction, “It is not your place to ask questions! Just talk.”

“About anything?”

“Anything that might prove useful to me.”

“I do not know you well enough to know what could be useful to you, prince”, Haldis admitted doubtfully, barely resisting the strong urge to burst into laughter. His request seemed funny to her, though she felt like the explanation concerning the gods was a mere excuse to cover the real reason he wanted her company. Wasn’t that what he was basically asking for? Her company. 

Was he...in need of a friend?

“It doesn’t matter. I will decide if it’s useful. Now talk.”

Haldis could not hold back her smirk. “But I am not in touch with the gods, prince.”

He ignored her, persisting she talked.

Haldis sighed angrily. “I am no seeress, nothing of what I say is a message by the gods. I have no choice but to obey you, though I warn you, prince, in case you deem wise what I say and it fails to aid you, then do not put the blame on me. Blame the gods for the failure, or your fate, or even yourself, but not me”, her voice waned considerably, “You have blamed me enough”, she whispered.

He was slightly taken aback by her small, sudden outburst but he did not seem to have been angered, rather a sad smile decorated his face.

“I blame you for what you have done wrong, slave, and that wrong of yours was to offend me”, he said coldly, “I would not blame you for something you have not done”, she sensed him clenching his fist, “I am not an unjust man”, he added with such bitterness that Haldis suddenly felt an inexplicable pity for him.

“I implied no such thing”, she hurried to exclaim, “You are a right man.”

“You know nothing about me, Haldis”, he murmured. He seemed as though he had suddenly been drawn in his own dreamworld, a sort of trance, a recollection of sorrows. And it was true, what he had said. She indeed knew so little about him, yet she felt entranced by him in a strange way. She regretted having accused him now. She felt a sinking in her chest, while he drowned in his own woeful silence. What was that was hurting him now?

She did not want to pity him, but now, inside the small, stiff room which was either a study or a private dining room, she did. Maybe it was the sudden- and drastic- changes in his mood, or his anger-filled soul, or perhaps his shriveling loneliness. Something that made her want to cry and cry for his pain, and for her pain and for the whole world’s pain. Cry for she could sense his heart numbing slowly, freezing, turning into stone by an overdose of bitter feelings. Loneliness, anger and sadness. Hate even.

His heart was still warm, stubbornly clinging to life and emotion, but she could foresee there would be a day when it would no longer be so. And she could not let it happen, not when she had seen it. She just couldn’t.

“I was thinking”, she heard herself begin to speak, “that pain can be both a burden and a gift.”

He lifted his head. “Why?”, he asked skeptically.

“It is a heavy burden to feel pain. And it is a heavier burden still to see it in others. But it is beautiful, because only then can you help them. To ease their pain.”

“Someone else’s pain should not be your concern. Let them deal with it. Besides, pain can rarely be appeased”, he said icily.

“It can! It can, prince Ivar, and I have seen it done many times before. People can help each other, if only they dared to look deeper into a person’s soul and heart. Where the pain lies.”

“It’s not feasible. Deep wounds never truly heal. One has to rely only on oneself to fight and survive the pain. Others cannot really help. It is difficult to ever truly understand a person, to see right through them. And as they say, what the eyes don’t see, the heart does not grieve over.”

Haldis giggled sweetly at this. “I am blind, but yet I grieve over the pain I see in others.”

“You cannot easily see the pain in others. What if they hide it?”

“I think I can. I have been trained to see such things.”

He chuckled, his previous light mood slightly restored. “Then, do you sincerely grieve for all the pain you see, Haldis?”

She hesitated for a bit. “Not always, no. I guess I am used to seeing all kinds of pain. But for the ones that struck me the most, yes, for those I do grieve.”

“And what kinds of pain can you have seen, you, that you are but a young woman?”

“Many. I have witnessed people lose faith in love, in life, in themselves. I have seen people forgetting what makes them human and stop knowing how to feel. People desperately trying to fight their fates. I have seen hearts break in two or in million pieces. Broken, lovely hearts which froze forever in order to stop the bleeding.”

“You are young, Haldis, how can you have witnessed such pains be felt?”

‘You are young too, how is your heart broken?’

She did not voice that melancholic question aloud, but smiled at him instead. “I have travelled far and wide, prince Ivar. I have made my fair share of acquaintances”, she joked, remembering people she had met in the past, as a servant. And as a result, she now had some experience in distinguishing the broken-hearted. How many abused women, traumatized children, disillusioned men, fading elders had she met! And all because she had been dragged from town to town, thrown about as a poor girl of a servant. Servants have always been distant witnesses to man’s sorrow. She had only discovered her gift of seeing pain when she had just become a servant. And only then had she realized that people, with compassion, can help one another. 

Pain, like fate, is inevitable, but unlike fate, it’s not inexorable. It can be sweetened, fought and driven away.

And the blue-eyed man in front of her was one of the deeply pained and he had unconsciously given himself up to her, had begged for her help. For company. For a friend. For someone who understood. And she did. Oh she did.

She would try and prevent the the cold from spreading, even if they were standing in the freezing, unwelcoming threshold of winter, which she feared so much. 

Haldis obeyed. She opened her mouth and talked.

For warmth is always found, is it not?


	9. The stars are fire

Darkness. Abyssal. Consuming. 

That is what it had always been, an unbeatable, chaotic darkness that she had to fight in every moment, every instant of her life- ever since the very start. Trying to find her way through it had been a struggle, a long and sorrowful one. She had won in many respects, she could perceive what she could not see, she could survive. Yet, even now that she was more experienced, light was a difficult concept for her to grasp. Because she had always only known darkness, light, in all its forms, was nothing sort of difficult to sense, let alone understand and appreciate. She knew the stars were there, as well as the sun and the moon, and she did know they were beautiful- that she could sense somehow- but their light still remained a mystery to her.

And there is beauty in mysteries.

But now it was a void. Not darkness, not light, but a void. Stiff, thick, suffocating. She was floating in the middle of it, perhaps being the only bright spot in the entire blackness. Her feet touched nothing, no ground, no water, just the humid air. There was silence while she floated and no breeze blew to relieve her from the heat’s clammy, tight embrace. She waited for something to come, anything that would shed light on the void, on why she was there, isolated from the rest of the world. From reality.

She waited. And she waited. And waited. Until something did come. 

She was warned of its coming due to a sudden rumble that shook her surroundings, if they were indeed any. She did not move, she realized she was unable to, and she simply kept floating into nothingness, awaiting for something powerful to arrive, a mystery. 

It was water that appeared from above. It arrived like a tide, strong angry waves flew high with every thrust of the water, sprinkling her with drops of gleaming white foam long before she was completely overcome by them. She had no time to react, not that it would prove helpful anyway, since she was neither able to move her body nor did she know how to swim. The raging waves crushed into her with an incredibly ferocious speed and brought her down with them, but somehow none of it hurt, none at all. Her skin only prickled lightly with the icy water, as it washed away the sweat that had stubbornly stuck on her body. 

She continued falling into a bottomless pit, surrounded by dark, almost black, waters, and she panicked for she did not know of their purpose nor of the void’s purpose. Why? The only question that echoed in her mind. Was it the gods’ work? She did not dare open her mouth and speak to them for she would probably drown if she did. Not that she was not drowning already. She internally pleaded to them for mercy, for redemption, for answers. Why was this happening? And what was it?

An omen perhaps. Of chaos.

Then a voice sounded. It pierced through the void and the waters and reached her ears, its sound caressing them softly like a feather. It was hoarse and sonorous, but it had a divine undertone. Celestial.

“Darkness is light, the sun is the moon. When the first flower blooms the warm shall fly. Beware the noon, when the bitter axe shall strike. And heed the flight, child, heed the flight!”

She gave a shocked gasp and had no time to process what she had heard when everything started twirling. The world, the water, the darkness, it all begun to twirl in impossible momentum, the sky above thundered and groaned. A laugh echoed in the distance, malicious, vengeful, so maniac it caused her revulsion. The world spun and spun, her head was dizzy beyond repair and-

Haldis awoke with a start. She sat up, panting heavily, her heart pounded. She rubbed her temples in an attempt to calm herself and coughed so as to concentrate on taming her clouded senses. She brought her hands about her arms and grimaced with disgust. She was soaked with sweat, no wonder her dream had involved water. 

A dream...that was what it had been. She had just woken up from a mystifying nightmare.

Haldis, slightly calmer now, raised her head to identify where she was. It was not hard to find; she was in the room where the slaves slept. It was mostly silent, though some women cried or talked a little in their sleep. It was cramped as always and that explained the unbearable heat of the room, which in turn translated how hot she had felt in her nightmare. Haldis could sense Dagny was sleeping a few paces next to her, snoring softly as usual. Outside thunder could be heard crashing down as well as the rhythmic sound of rain falling on the thatch roof above their heads.

She was not sure whether it was daytime yet. It probably was not, for none of the other slaves had woken up, and they all usually woke up at the break of dawn. Most likely, it was still nighttime. She took some big, comforting breaths, leaned back on the wooden wall and closed her eyes, hoping she could go back to sleep. But she could not. Her nightmare kept being vividly replayed in her mind and she shuddered with fear and tiredness. She hugged herself and groaned, exasperated. Questions flooded her but she could come up with no answers. The man’s voice- for it was a man that had spoken to her- rung in her mind eerily and she shuddered again.

A woman stirred and sighed in her sleep. Raindrops dripped from the ceiling and into a water paddle that had formed on the ground. Outside the wind roared, thunder crushed and rain clapped continuously. All of it was too loud for Haldis and the heat suffocated her, her throat was drier than a rainless summer and her head was sore. The room was coated with the metallic and sickening scent of blood. She loathed it, she loathed it all. The filth, the blood, the horrible smells and the misery.

She realized there was no chance for her to go back to sleep, not with so many stimulus for her alert senses. She sighed in desperation. She felt as though as she was chocking, so suffocating was the atmosphere. She longed for fresh air but she could not go outside. Not with the violent thunderstorm and the merciless cold waiting to ravage her. Going out was equivalent to asking for her death. 

But she eventually gave in. She just wanted to get away. From the heat and the dirt. And from the misery that lingered in this room and clawed her aggressively. 

She groped aimlessly around for something to cover herself. She found a ragged sheet lying unused and draped it on her shoulders. She sat up and slipped away quietly, making sure she did not step on any sleeping woman. Upon being opened the door made a loud creaking sound and Haldis flinched in alarm, hoping she had not frightened anyone. No one moved expect from a young girl who, still asleep, cried and called for her mother. Relieved, Haldis stepped out of the room and closed the door.

The cold did hit her at once. It was a nipping, numbing cold that slowly worked itself to the bones until they froze. The snow burned her feet strangely but she chose to disregard this and went on walking. The rain fell on her viciously and before she had walked two steps she was already drenched. But that did not stop her still. She had walked into the heart of the thunderstorm without having any second thoughts.

She wandered around for a bit, curiously unafraid of the thunderbolts and the rain that raged and raged, thinking deeply of her nightmare. She ignored the presence of the void and the water and focused on interpreting the words of the god-like voice. It was a prophecy, what else could it be? It was a warning too. Since when was she one to receive messages by the gods? Prophecies are nothing but god-sent, she could not deny that. She wondered whether Prince Ivar’s assertion that she was connected to the gods was right. She could not bring herself to believe nor appreciate it. She was no seeress and she had never desired to be one. She did not want to know what the future held for her nor for anyone else. She was scared that if she indeed took a glimpse into the future, she would see something tragic, something bitter, something scarring. She had better remain under the shadows of ignorance.

Her nightmare was just a proof of her confused and tired mind. Her soul was unbound by the gods. 

She relished at that thought, for she was afraid of the gods. They never bother to come when they are implored to, yet they appear whenever they wish and however they fancy. She could not help but despise their ways. And that made her even more fearful of their wrath.

A thunder crush interrupted her pondering and made her search for shelter. She grunted as her feet sank deeper into the snow. She was a good deal away from the room now, there was no point in going back. The wind blew and whistled violently and she walked sluggishly for fear that its force would sweep her off her feet. Her shoes were filled with water and her dress felt more like a heavy sack filled with rocks than an actual dress. Haldis clutched the wet sheet closer to her body and went on looking. Luckily, she stumbled upon a small wooden hut, which she remembered it to be a recently emptied storeroom. She groped for the doorknob, found it and opened the door. Much to her relief, no one occupied it. Who would anyway?

The floor was covered with straw, indicating its former usage for storage. The windows were barred with thin planks that kept most of the rainwater out. She slowly made her way towards a corner and there she collapsed with a deep- and almost contented- sigh. She tossed the sheet away, threw her shoes off and squeezed the water out of her long brown hair. She brushed the tangled strands with her fingers and breathed through her nose. The cold still stung but she ignored it. As she fussed around, she found a big loaf of stale bread abandoned between the thick layers of straw and rejoiced in her discovery. It was not everyday one came across such a portion of food available. She greedily ate half of it and kept the other half for Dagny. Haldis had not forgotten Saga of course, but she suspected the redhead’s new...relations made sure she did not go hungry. 

She settled herself under a layer of straw, thick enough to keep her warm, and lied down, the straw also serving as a pillow and bed. She smiled. The certainty with which she had taken the decision to leave the other room had assured her that it was meant to be. It was as if she had known that the rain and the wind would lead her somewhere better, somewhere safer. Perhaps it was the gods’ work. She closed her eyes and uttered a prayer of gratitude to Meili, the god of wayfarers. 

Perhaps the gods did like her just a little bit. She felt a lot better now, she could breathe freely, she was almost warm and she had had food, perhaps all thanks to them. It was just like she had said to Prince Ivar, if the gods- and fate- wanted her alive then they would keep her so. Her eyes drooped and her muscles relaxed completely, basking in the warmth. And so sleep claimed her at last in that abandoned storage room, where she had felt more wholesome than a long time ago. A small smile still on her face.

And outside the rain had finally stopped.

“Wake up you blind bitch!”

A voice shook her awake. Haldis opened her eyes but before there was time for her senses to adjust to being awake, two hands grasped her shoulders and shoved her out of her makeshift bed.

“What were you doing here you...imbecile!”, they called again.

In a moment of panic she thought it was Berit, but it did not take her long to recognize the true owner of the voice. It was squeaky and permanently malcontented, it belonged to Margrethe.

“I asked why the fuck are you here!”, Margrethe almost spat the words.

Haldis raised her chin defiantly. She would not tolerate being scolded by another slave, their different roles be damned.

“I was sleeping, Margrethe”, she answered icily.

“Who told you to sleep here?”, the thrall demanded acidly. She had doubtlessly assumed that Haldis had spent the night with someone and clearly desired to know whether it was one of the princes. If the blond thrall had arrived here it meant that it was daytime already. 

“Myself”, Haldis admitted calmly and got up to stand on her feet. She brushed away the dry straws that had remained stuck on her dress, put on her shoes and picked up the sheet, now dry as well, which she had used last night. Between its folds she had hidden the half loaf of bread she had saved for Dagny.

Margrethe had regained her composure and seemed to regret her outburst, though that sentiment did not stop her from expressing her resentment towards Haldis. They both shared this mutual dislike for one another and did not bother to hide it. Haldis had gotten wind of the underlying motives behind Margrethe's careful actions and the latter had probably realized that. So it was no use putting on her honeyed facade while with her.

“As if someone would come to you”, the blond woman scoffed, looking at her and grimacing, “But why were you not in the sleeping room with the others? It is not in your place to sleep here. You do not deserve it.”

“Why, Margrethe? Is this a castle room I knew nothing about?”, Haldis responded sarcastically, “I got lost in the storm last night. This is the only shelter I could find so I did not stop to think whether I am undeserving of such luxury”, she proceeded to explain with the same tone.

“Lost in the storm? What were you doing that late at night?”, Margrethe insisted arrogantly.

“It is none of your concern, Margrethe. You had better return to the Great Hall before the food and the mead gets cold. Men do not like their delicacies cold”, Haldis said with an ironic tone and smirked, without being able to stop herself. Margrethe had not been her enemy, rather an unpleasant acquaintance, but by provoking her, she had just made her one.

Margrethe blanched at the connotative insult. “You suggest I go? It is you who should go back to your work of feeding the dogs and scrubbing the floors! Quickly, before I have Ubbe torture you!”, she declared with magniloquent authority. 

“Easy, Margrethe, you are not the queen!”, Haldis chuckled and turned towards the door. As she was exiting she heard Margrethe mumble to herself.

“Not yet”, she whined, “but soon enough I will. And then I will have you executed.”

Haldis bluntly ignored her. If Magrethe did become Queen one day, Haldis would already be too far to care, let alone serve her! 

She immediately missed the hut’s relative warmth for when she stepped out of it the cold bit her at once and it stung. She assumed it was a very cloudy morning because she could feel not even one sunbeam fall on her body. She sighed, disappointed, but how could it have been otherwise? They were already two weeks into winter and last night there had been the first thunderstorm of the season. The existence of grim weather was more than reasonable. For one thing, she should be thanking the gods for not sending a horrid blizzard. But how did she wish for some sunshine! Gracious Odin, even just for a minute, just a small drop of sunshine to warm her up and give her the strength to go on...

No. She had to find the strength to continue regardless the circumstances and, certainly, regardless the weather. She should not waste her time on hopeless prayers. The gods never come to your aid when you beg them to.

She headed to the small fenced area where the hens, the cattle and the lambs were kept and taken care of. She knew this was where she would find young Dagny, who was usually on duty there, feeding the animals, collecting the eggs, milking the cows and cleaning the place from dung and other waste. Upon reaching the place, some dogs came running towards Haldis, recognizing her. They barked enthusiastically and surrounded her energetically, and she, never having been fond of dogs, attempted to shrink away but succeeded only in exciting them even more. 

“Odin! Loki! Baldur! Down!”, it was Dagny indeed that rushed towards the happy dogs, “Down I said, down!”, she reprimanded them with a serious tone. Once the animals had calmed down, she crouched down at their level and petted them lovingly. “That’s it! Good boys!” 

She stood up and urged them to go. “Haldis!”, she greeted her cheerfully, “Look at you, so clean!”, she gave a jolly giggle and Haldis followed suit.

“The rain washed me clean last night. I bet the dress is shining!”, she joked and twirled around, “Cannot say the same about you though!”, she added, knowing that the blond girl would be fully covered in dirt. 

“Don’t say that, I took a bath yesterday!”, Dagny laughed again, not offended in the least. Dagny was a cheerful girl, not as vivacious as Saga, of course, but yet she never seemed woebegone or depressed. And given that she had been a slave there ever since her very birth, she sure seemed too cheerful at times. Who knew what horrible treatments she could have been subjected to, gods, she herself had admitted to being a victim of bloody beatings! That girl must have been through hell, Haldis could not even begin to fathom what she could have possibly endured, but yet she borne it all. With a smile on her face. Haldis did look up to her.

“So what brings you to my humble estate?”, Dagny questioned her, taking pride in the good state of the small farm, and rightfully so, for she worked hard everyday without receiving much help from others. Of course, it was not the only farm that ought to be taken care of, in truth there were many of them, plenty enough to keep more than a dozen of fretting slaves busy.

“I have a small gift for you. Your estate has won you a prize!”, Haldis exclaimed triumphantly and handed her the bread. 

Dagny’s eyes widened in surprise as she accepted the offering. “Where did you snatch this big boy from?”, she raised an eyebrow and inspected it carelessly.

“I did not snatch it. I found a whole loaf and literally devoured half of it. I thought I should bring you some”, Haldis sighed, “ I wish I had found enough for all the others. But no such luck, my friend.”

Dagny took a big bite. “Stale, is it not?”, she asked with her mouth full. Haldis nodded her head solemnly but the young girl simply shrugged. “Stale or not, it is all the same to me. I have not had fresh bread enough times in my life to actually remember how it tastes like.”

“I am sorry”, Haldis mumbled. She herself had had fresh bread many times before. She used to bake with her grandmother, bread and a lot of kinds of other pastries. The majority of them were always coated or filled with honey. Her grandmother did love honey. Haldis closed her eyes and tried to remember how honey tasted like. It had been long since she had had some...but its taste reminded her of home. Home...

A bone-chilling breeze blew and lifted their skirts, the snow grew colder under their feet. Dagny cursed angrily and finished the rest of her snack. The dogs began barking loudly in the distance and startled the hens, who started running around their pen in a mad frenzy. Haldis abstractedly turned her head towards the noise and Dagny followed her example.

“Out of the three, only Baldur is a true dog. Odin and Loki are hunting hounds. They are bigger and stronger, you see”, Dagny said out of the blue, her gaze fixed on the barking animals. “I wish I could go hunting with them two”, she muttered dreamily, “Imagine how great it would be, running wild and having them by your side, all of you in pursuit of a fleeing prey”, her eyes glinted with excitement. She was seeing the image in front of her, she was dreaming. Of being free.

All slaves have dreams. Mainly of freedom.

“I wish I had a farm like this”, it was Haldis’s turn to join the daydream and express her heart’s desire. Her home back in her village included a small farm. They had kept animals as such and her grandmother had taught her how to take care of them. When Haldis was old enough to handle the few animals on her own- more like with the help of a farm girl or two- her grandmother would leave her so she could tend the healer hut she used to own. She was an amateur healer so she did not receive a lot of customers regularly, but she would take much pride in her work, doing it with much passion. She was a very busy woman her grandmother, with a lot of passions and interests. And whenever she failed, she would stand up, start all over again and persevere until she succeeded. And although her healer’s hut never became popular, she always cherished it and enjoyed every single minute of her working there. After her death everything had fallen apart, the hut was abandoned, the few servants they had kept fled with the little gold the house had possessed, and young Haldis was left alone in the world. It had been so hard for her- after all she had been but a helpless teenage girl at that time- and despite the support her fellow villagers had tried to provide, it all turned out for the worse. The majority of the animals died under her insufficient care within a week and those which survived she killed for food, she had found no way to earn money and it was too difficult for her maintain the house. And worst of all, she still had some trouble navigating herself accurately and mastering her senses. 

It had been hell. And then, just when she had thought that there would be no end to her newly-found misery, the wealthiest family of the village decided to take her in as a servant. They assigned her to take care of their young children and thus had her life as servant begun. Many years had passed since then and yet here she was now, still a slave, still the property of someone else.

“One day maybe we will have what we want”, Dagny’s warm voice interrupted her reminiscing.

“Freedom. It’s freedom I want”, Haldis admitted softly.

“Me too, my friend, me too”, Dagny agreed, “And one day I will have it. Soon enough I will”, she brought her fist to her chest, her tone determined. Dagny was young. She could still dream with such vigour.

“I hope so, oh, I hope so”, Haldis whispered sadly. She too dreamed. But she had more experience in facing reality. And reality is harsh. Not all dreams come true. No matter the fervour with which they are dreamed.

“Fuck, here comes the smolder”, Dagny spat suddenly, “I will see you later, Haldis, and thanks for the bread!”

She hurried back to her animals, her blond braid swinging about her back. Haldis turned around and immediately realized why the girl had left so quickly; Berit was approaching with big, agile steps, ready, as ever, to scold and complain.

“Haldis!”, she barked, “Was the gossiping good? Should I call the slave trader to join you?”, she threatened malevolently, but Haldis was aware she had only said that to upset her and get her to work. And work she would do.

“Why are you still standing here? Get back to your work!”, Berit ordered impatiently and swayed a little, as she struggled to make her way through the slippery snow. Haldis could sense the old woman was wearing a thin coat of fur on her back and thick, heavy boots on her feet. The cold seemed to slow her down a little bit, but the stubborn old woman stayed devoted to her duties of supervision, even though she was clearly suffering pain in her bones and muscles.

Haldis hesitated. “Maybe- well, would you like me to help you?”, she asked timidly.

Berit’s eyes widened as though they were about to jump off their sockets. 

“Help?”, she uttered the word as if it was an inconceivable notion to her, “From you? For Odin’s sake, slave, I might be old but I can see as acutely as a little girl! Why would I need help from a blind fool?”

“I mean...with walking”, Haldis’s voice faltered with regret. Why did she have to open her mouth and risk angering this bad-tempered woman? She was such a big fool indeed!

“I do not need help with walking. I feel better than ever”, Berit snapped but her voice was somehow a tad softer, “What I need is not your concern. Now go back to work!”, she jerked her hand dismissively and Haldis obeyed.

It all leads back to work.

She paid her daily visit to the kitchen and stayed there for over two hours peeling potatoes and cutting turnips among the chattering kitchen girls. They did not really include her in their conversations- not that she particularly wished to be included- apart from the usual share of snide remarks the bitter ones made sure to direct at her. 

After that she went to sweep the Great Hall and there she met Saga, who also wore a thin coat of fur and who proudly made a show of it. Haldis felt a sad pang on her chest, for not only was she reminded of the contrast between them- she herself only had the protection of a random sheet she had found lying around- but she was also hurt by Saga’s inconsiderateness. She also feared that Saga was slowly growing attached to Prince Sigurd, who had claimed her now and who was the generous giver of the fur coat. Saga kept twirling and humming in joy, singing praises to her kind prince, while Haldis did her best to find the right words to express her disapproval. But before she could voice her opinion, Saga had already flown off dreamily. 

The last thing Haldis wanted to deal with was a friend in love. And even worse, she did not want to face the heartbreak that would ensue. For there is always heartbreak. Isn’t there?

Afterwards, as she had done for the past two weeks, she went and found Prince Ivar. She visited him everyday and accompanied him wherever he went, sometimes talking incessantly and other times remaining utterly silent. He accepted her coming and even timidly encouraged it at times. They mainly conversed and Haldis had been impressed at how much he seemed to respect her and her opinions. She found it odd, his sudden change of heart. He did not seem to despise her anymore, at least not fully, and even if he did, he managed to hide it well. Perhaps he simply tolerated her presence, but for what reason? It was obvious that he was a man who did nothing without a purpose and she wondered what his cunning mind had planned. If he really had planned something. Well, he himself had admitted he wanted her to talk so he could use her words to his advantage, for he was under the false impression that the gods spoke to her.

Well, maybe it was not entirely so false an impression after all.

Of course, she would not tell him of her nightmare nor about the prophecy. It was none of his concern and she feared his reaction as much as she feared the prophecy itself. Maybe he would take it too seriously and have her recite all her dreams in hopes of hearing something satisfying. What was he looking for? She did not know.

What she did know, and had seen as well, was that he was lonely. He had used his nonsensical belief about her connection with the gods as an excuse to have her talk to him. He needed some company, that was crystal clear. But why he had chosen to pursue the company of a mere, poor slave instead of the company of a good, available thrall or of his brothers was beyond her comprehension. 

Well, she had no choice but to continue. It is what it is.

“I like the rain. Do you?”, Prince Ivar asked her a few days later. They were in the usual room where they had met so many times, safe from the pouring rain that was currently spitting on the window. He was sharpening his weapons, giving special attention to his axe, and she was spinning wool on a small spindle she had found abandoned. She had cleaned it and to her enthusiasm, it could be used. Spinning wool was one of the few things her grandmother had not taught her. Her grandmother had resented that activity and, being restless until the end of her days, she had never bothered to sit down and learn. Haldis had later been taught to spin wool as a servant to an elderly couple. The woman had kindly offered to teach her and she had accepted. These two were the best masters she had ever had, but sadly, they could not afford to keep her for long. She was not nearly good at the activity, her disability preventing her from perfecting it, but she did enjoy trying to create small cloths. One day she wished she would be adept enough to make shirts and other such garments. 

“No”, Haldis answered bluntly, “It makes everything so gloomy. It is depressing.”

He did not raise his eyes from his axe, but he grimaced slightly. “It’s not. Not everything that seems to create chaos is bad, Haldis”, he smirked, “In fact, chaos is better than order. The gods thrive on chaos.”

Haldis raised her head and faced his direction. “Order is everything, prince. It keeps everything peaceful and under control.”

“I do not like peace. I prefer war.”

“You prefer war, since you are warrior. If you were a merchant you would disdain the war, because it would slow or even diminish your business. Think about us, the people who cannot fight. It us who must suffer the consequences of war, not you.”

“Well, every war happens at someone’s expense. We all suffer from it, though I would not quite use that word for myself”, he licked his lips smugly. It must have been a long time since he had fought. He almost sounded...deprived.

“Of course, even the warriors suffer. But think about it, it is they who make the impact, they who determine the course of the war, and they who take the decisions. While those who don’t fight, even though they never have a say in any of it all, sometimes suffer much worse a fate than the warriors themselves.”

He shook his head in annoyance. “Don’t start about fate. We have talked about it already.”

“I am not”, Haldis answered calmly, “I just resent how people handle power sometimes. If they succeed they receive all the glory, but if they make mistakes then they make sure someone else takes the blame.”

Prince Ivar shrugged. “People take advantage of power sometimes. And sometimes it does not even belong to them”, somehow she sensed that while he spoke these words, his eyes had been painted by a sheen of true malice. And anger.

“What do you do then?”

“When?”

“When the power does not belong to the right person.”

“I kill them. I take back what is mine”, his voice became a little bit harsher, his fingers curled tightly around his newly-polished axe. The bitter axe....could it be? It seemed as if she had struck a sensitive chord of his with that question about power. 

Outside the downpour came to an abrupt stop. An awkward silence occurred and both of them concentrated on their tasks. But they soon grow bored by the silence.

“The rain has stopped”, Prince Ivar remarked sheepishly. She giggled, lightly, so as not to offend him.

“I know”, she said and stood up, “It is late, is it not? I should get going.”

He did not say anything back but descended from his seat and crawled to the threshold of the door, where she had come to stand. Haldis opened the door and felt the chill overwhelm her immediately. She shivered.

“I like the cold”, he cast a sidelong glance at her, anticipating her answer.

“I hate it”, she said softly.

He smirked just as softly. “We have so much in common, Haldis, I am impressed.”

She merely hummed in response. The night was quiet. Only the sonorous cooing of owls echoed, along with the dripping of water from roofs, windows and trees. The leaves rustled ever so often with the small but deadly cold breeze. 

“It is a moonless night”, Haldis murmured disappointedly. She wished her grandmother was here. How much did she miss her... She internally wondered whether her grandmother missed her at all up above.

“There are the stars though”, he pointed out as comfortingly as he could.

“It is not the same”, she grumbled because indeed it wasn’t the same. This night sky was starlit, countless twinkling lights decorated it, but her grandmother was not there. Only the moon could bring her close. Nevertheless, Haldis did like the stars.

“I was born on such a winter night”, she spoke again, “Freezing, lonely, quiet. Only my mother cried that night. And the sky was filled with stars. My grandmother said it was a good omen, that they overlooked my birth. I say they were mocking me from up above.”

She waited for him to respond and he did not. There was a long pause. The owls were cooing in a symphony now. A stronger breeze blew and the dark leaves rustled louder. 

“Do you ever wonder what the stars are made of?”, he finally spoke.

She giggled. “You sound like a lovesick poet, prince.”

“Do you not wonder at all? What they are made of?”, he repeated his question, ignoring her comment.

The stars danced above them. Bright. Ever so many.

“I guess they are made of fire”, she answered.

“Fire?”, he sounded surprised.

“Yes, fire. How else could they be so bright?” Haldis gave a shrug. She did not know.

There are too many questions left unanswered in this world. And maybe that is a good thing. 

For there is beauty in mysteries.


	10. The advisor and the doubter

The heart of winter is always the coldest. Every year, every time, the middle of winter is the most freezing period of the notoriously merciless season. This is the time for families and friends to gather together around the fire, their bodies and souls all warmed up, and revel in or disdain each other’s company. Secrets might be spilled, hidden sentiments revealed, and bonds tested; companionship is a challenging undertaking indeed. But it is all how it should be. 

For when spring arrives, it may heal all the wounds winter has opened. 

Such were the thoughts of Haldis as she was crouching next to one of the many fires that burned inside the Great Hall. She was leaning close to the dancing flames, delighting in the welcome warmth they emanated. Her hands were outstretched, hovering eagerly above the flames as well. The Great Hall was quiet and gloomy, with very few occupants at that moment. A surprising thing, because it was nighttime and usually the Great Hall was crowded at such a time of day. Well, no matter- the quieter the better. 

Haldis exhaled deeply and basked in the warmth of the fireplace, still lost in her thoughts. Prince had Ivar had permitted her to warm herself for as long as she wished. That day she had arrived to him frozen and drenched to the bone and, much to her surprise, he had taken pity on her and had allowed her to stay beside the fireplace. He was not currently accompanying her and in truth, she did not particularly mind. Ever since a child, Haldis had been a solitary person, never really seeking company, though never refusing it either. She preferred being alone, only because she could focus on the unending thoughts of her racing mind, and that had always been enough. Not that the other children wished to be friends with her anyway. 

For that reason, talking with Prince Ivar everyday had been, to all intents and purposes, a difficult task. He was a prince and a rather bad-tempered one as well, so at first she would easily find herself at a loss for words. She had already angered him in some occasions due to slips of her tongue and she did count herself lucky to have escaped his wrath. Sometimes she felt as though she was walking on eggshells when she was around him. And then there was the fact that he had specifically asked for her company, something completely unheard of for someone like him.

Upon arriving in Kattegat many moons ago, and being bought by the crippled prince, she would never have imagined that she would meet such a man, let alone that their relationship would have taken such an unexpected turn. And yet, here they were now, sharing a mutual feeling of understanding and trying to form some kind of companionship. It was strange, but she did like it in a way. And, Haldis noted with a small smile, she was not really afraid of Prince Ivar anymore. She had grown fond of him and she dared think that he had to come to like her as well. 

Of course, he was still a prince and she was still a slave. They were different and the fact that their paths had crossed meant nothing. She could never rise up to his status, and certainly, he should never mingle with hers. Though, like she had once said to him, she had not always been a slave. She used to be a normal villager, living her own little life. Up until everything changed, of course. But he treated her civilly- quite well, in fact- and she was thankful he had not asked for more than to give him a piece of her mind. Thankfully, he had not demanded she offer herself to him and Haldis was beyond relieved at that. But, as Margrethe had once so snobbishly pointed out, no one would ever come to her if it was pleasure they sought. And it was better that way.

As the fire crackled and flared up, Haldis felt goosebumps form against the skin of her arm. She shrank even closer to the fireplace and closed her eyes contentedly. If only she could stay forever trapped in this serene moment, her only companions the comforting presence of the fire next to her and the calming quietness of the hall.

She thought intensely of Prince Ivar. What an intriguing character he was. He was grumpy and soured most of the time- indeed he always seemed to be trembling on the narrow divide between misery and anger- but there were moments when something would shine in him, moments when his real simple self did emerge. She had seen it. She could feel his pain, a pain he must have carried since childhood, and she could also feel how that pain had grown to become a big part of him. Such big a part had it become, that it overshadowed the merits of his personality. There was a goodness inside him, but it lied deep down, hidden from the world and from himself. If only she could contribute to its emergence.

Wasn’t she already helping? She kept him company. She advised him whenever he prompted her to. She hoped that was enough.

But what about his story? What was his past?

Even though she had known him for quite some time now, Haldis realized that she truly knew very little of him and his family. She was aware that he and his other three brothers were the sons of the renowned Ragnar Lothbrok- everyone knew that- and the late Queen Aslaug Sigurdsdottir. She knew nothing else, not even of the circumstances of either of his parents’ death. She suspected they had both been killed because she could sense the drive for vengeance that lingered in the air of Kattegat. How Lagertha, Ragnar’s former wife, had become queen escaped her as well. And it was reasonable for her to know nothing at all; Haldis was not from Kattegat. She came from a faraway village in the north, which was so secluded by the mountains that the news of Norway always reached it last.

The tension between the princes and Queen Lagertha was plainly obvious. And if looks could kill, then prince Ivar’s hateful glances towards the composed queen would have ended her already. Haldis could sense his eyes burn menacingly anytime the queen came into view.

Again, what lay behind their frail facades? What story? What past? 

Haldis burned with curiosity but she didn’t dare to ask Prince Ivar. She knew his anger would burst. She simply waited for the day he would finally tell her by himself. Tell her all about the past. He would, one day.

She did not bother asking Saga either, even though the redhead claimed that Margrethe had talked to her about the princes and the story of their family. But, for all Haldis knew, Margrethe could be telling anything but the truth. And the sad reality was that lately Haldis had been purposefully avoiding Saga. The latter’s overly positive but inconsiderate demeanour, combined with her growing attachment to Prince Sigurd, got on Haldis’s nerves. She preferred the solid company of Dagny, who, despite her youth, was savvy and more down-to-earth.

But for what purpose was all of this? Sooner or later, Haldis would be made redundant and sold to someone else and then so on, until someone with the rare gift of compassion would finally recognize how hard she worked and set her free in return. 

But was that not too far ahead in the future?

Yes. She would rather not look too far ahead. It was best not to know.

“Haldis! We two have a little chat to make.”

Haldis raised her head at the direction of the crabby voice, irritated that someone had interrupted her untroubled moment of deep thinking- and resting.

The owner of the voice nudged her arm. The fire hissed and spat sparks. Well, there was no escaping. A chat it is.

.................

Ivar hated himself for having started to grow dependent on her. Her, the blind slave, the goddess of stones, the moonshine apparition, the grey-eyed woman who knew more than she revealed. 

He had come to this upsetting realization when she had left him one night. They had talked about many things- to his great surprise, they had even touched the romantic topic of stars and their origins- and then he had dismissed her. The moment she had stepped out of the room and had vanished into the blackness, a feeling of intense loneliness- one he knew only too well- had returned to him with full force. He had tried to shake it away, but it would not leave, it haunted him until the next day that he saw her again, approaching him silently, her face a mask of secrets. Seeing her, his heart had been elevated, it had turned lighter somehow, and then the realization had hit him. That he was forming an attachment to her. And, no, he did not like this. Not in the least.

He should not allow himself to succumb to the charms of anyone, not even to that of a lovely woman. Given his ineptitude in pleasing one, there was no need to have any around. It had been like that for quite some time, ever since his failure with Margrethe, and he had been very well able to put up with the loneliness that the absence of a companion caused. And it was not that he had been completely alone, he had his brothers. He had had his mother. His beloved mother, the only woman who loved him. Who had loved him. She was gone now and nothing he could do would ever bring her back. After her death he had come to realize to what extent his loneliness went, and it was a bottomless pit his loneliness. Yes, he did have his brothers, but then again, they did not understand him truly. But perhaps it was meant to be like this, maybe loneliness was a good thing, something that could elevate him to glory. 

How many times had he told himself he needed no one? Many. Many.

And yet, he still wanted the blind slave to be near him. To hear her mellow voice speak and hear what she had to say, the messages the gods sent to him through her thin, pale mouth. He could see that she was no longer afraid of him, and even though a small part of him wished he could win his intimidating prestige back, he had appreciated her change of heart. 

No. No.

He could not trust her, he shouldn’t, he mustn’t. Because if he ever wished to have her, he would not be able to and it would all result in scaring her away, or even killing her in a blind rage. He could not trust women and their mercenary minds, the life of pleasure and love were just not for him. His life was dedicated to war and blood and glory. Only that. And that is why he had taken the slave under his wing, not because he felt any attraction to her, but because she was simply the only person he had found that listened to his conversations with real interest. And she was god-sent, no? He had better listen to what she had to say. And one day, when her words would be of no use to him, he would throw her away. She was just another thing that he could tap into so as to reach his ambition.

Yet why was her directionless gaze burning into his psyche? Straight into his soul? It baffled and agitated him. He only needed her words, but why did her voice ring so pleasantly in his ears? Why did she seem to be the only person who understood him? A slave! A mere slave he should have beaten black and blue from the very first time she had opposed him. What did she want from him? What was her stoic pale face hiding, what emotion, what pain? And her heart? Her heart was a pure mystery to him.

He disliked her. No, he hated her. She was annoying and irrelevant and too cheeky for her own good. 

No. He liked her. She was witty and placid and god-sent. And understanding.

But she was a slave. And a woman. He could not trust her. He didn’t trust her. 

Ivar groaned, all this excessive thinking having irritated him. Almost being at his wits’ end, he decided to head towards the Great Hall to grab some mead that could certainly ease his frustration. He crawled slowly, making sure he did not stumble upon his brothers, his mood too grumpy to tolerate their annoying demeanours. Upon having almost reached his destination, however, he witnessed the most peculiar sight. The thrall Margrethe, frowning but visibly determined, was heading to Haldis’s direction, who seemed to have fallen asleep by the fireplace. Ivar had given her permission to sit near the fire and dry herself, for when he had called for her that day, she had arrived soaked to the skin due to the thunderstorm that had occurred. He had taken pity on her, that is true, but why had he succumbed to that weak sentiment and offered her the luxury of a fire’s warmth? He did not want to look weak by being generous. He was not weak, never.

“Haldis! We two have a little chat to make”, he heard Margrethe declare demandingly. Curious at the exchange that was about to take place, Ivar crawled forward, carefully keeping himself out of sight, but going close enough to hear the conversation clearly and watch the expressions of the two women.

Haldis moved about in obvious irritation but forced a cold smile. “What is it you want to chat about, Margrethe?”

The blond thrall clasped her hands and smiled widely, but Ivar could easily see the animosity her fake smile had tried to coat. “Well”, she spoke, “I think you and I have gotten off on the wrong foot. There is no particular reason for that, is there?”, she eyed the brunette expectantly. 

“No, Margrethe, really”, was Haldis’s answer and Ivar could not tell whether she was joking or not.

“We should try and start anew”, Margrethe went on, “Don’t you think?”

“If you say so, Margrethe.”

“Perfect! Let us start by talking about ourselves! Now, tell me, Haldis, how long have you been a slave?”

“I have been a servant for many years. I was sold as a slave last summer.”

“I see, I see, I was a slave ever since a child. Do you like it here?”

Haldis raised a questioning eyebrow. “Should I?”

“Why, yes!”, cried Margrethe and judging by the spiteful sheen in her eyes, Ivar assumed she had steered the conversation exactly where she wanted. “It seems that prince Ivar has taken a liking to you. Doesn’t that make you happy?”, Margrethe inquired. Ivar anticipated the answer.

“If that means he will treat me well, then, yes, I am content”, Haldis replied stiffly.

“He does treat you well.”

“And I am grateful of this.”

“He really does pay attention to you. But you should not risk angering him by saying something completely stupid, he is easily offended.”

Haldis offered no response. Ivar stopped a growl from emerging in his throat. Since when was Margrethe supposed to talk about him with such a knowing tone?

“You should not risk offending him, Haldis”, Margrethe repeated, “He is an incredibly ill-tempered man. But lucky for you, I know a fair share of things about all the princes. I could tell you all you wish to know about Prince Ivar and you will never have to worry of him taking exception to your senseless words.”

“Why, is there something specific that I should know?”. Haldis asked cautiously.

“Of course there is! Do you not want to know the story of his family?”

Haldis pursed her lips together and thought of her answer for a moment. “Thank you, Margrethe. But I know it already.”

Margrethe’s eyebrows creased in annoyance. Ivar internally wondered whether Haldis was telling the truth. She had never mentioned Aslaug or Lagertha, not even Ragnar, she clearly did not come from Kattegat. But if she indeed knew, than why had she not mentioned anything?

“What do you want from Ivar?”, Margrethe demanded, having abandoned her friendly pretence.

Haldis seemed bemused. “What on earth do you mean?”

“You obviously want something from him! You follow him around like a bitch with her pups! But, let me tell you one thing, Haldis, he will never sleep with you! Not only because of your ugly face but also because his legs are not the only part of his that does not work!”, Margrethe spat in a sudden burst of anger.

Haldis looked taken aback, as well as a little flustered. Ivar grimaced in horror and was overcome by a surge of fury. How dare that bitch speak such words about him? Even if it was true, she had no right! How bloody dare she humiliate him!

Margrethe went on talking, completely unaware that the very man she was talking about was a few paces away from her, lying in the shadows, seething in dark anger. 

“You thought he would please you, is that it? Well, he can’t! He can’t please a woman. You can’t have what you want!”, she threw her hands in the air, a gesture of triumph. Ivar shook with indignation but somehow managed to hold himself back.

For a moment Haldis was completely speechless, so flabbergasted did she seem. But she quickly gained her voice back and Ivar held his breath for fear of what she might say. Would she mock him as well? Gods…what if she really had just wanted him for pleasure? Evidently, she had no idea of his inability. Had she feigned interest and understanding just to sleep with him? How had he not thought about this before? He was a fool!

“You are mistaken, Margrethe, I have no intention of laying with him”, Haldis spoke calmly and Ivar released the breath he was holding, though his chest still felt heavy. Margrethe’s eyes widened at the woman’s response.

“Then who is it that you want to sleep with? Hvitserk? Or perhaps my Ubbe?”

Haldis sat up, finally displaying anger herself. “No one! No one! I do not wish to sleep with any of them! I am just a slave obeying my byers, what do you want from me?”

“The truth! I went to talk to the Seer and he said that I will never be queen because the blind shall be raised first! You blind bitch are trying to steal my crown away from me!”, Margrethe cried hysterically.

“I am not trying to steal anyone’s crown away! You can become Queen of all Norway for all I care! I just want my freedom!”, Haldis shot back with equal feeling.

“I hate you! Wait until I become queen and you will see!”, Margrethe shrieked and stomped off. 

Ivar watched as Haldis blinked in frustration and slumped back in her seat by the fire. Ivar did not move for a while. The seed of doubt, which had already been in his heart, had now sprung and he eyed Haldis with suspicion. Could it be that she had had tried to take advantage of him and his status? He tried to compose himself, but his wrath forced a growl on his lips. The brown-haired woman raised her head in alarm and Ivar decided to finally reveal himself.

“Quite a show”, he commented sarcastically, as Haldis stood up awkwardly, flushing in either anger or embarrassment. He could not tell which of the two it was.

“Prince Ivar…you heard…everything?”, she asked in a small voice. When he did not answer, she came closer to him. “It was horrible, what she said. I do not believe a word of it”, she said comfortingly.

“So what if it was true?”, Ivar snapped, “What would you do then?”

“Nothing. Because nothing changes for me. And you”, she admitted quietly but Ivar was too preoccupied with his anger to detect the genuineness in her voice.

“All women are power-hungry. You are never satisfied, so insatiable is your thirst for power”, he accused harshly, remembering the rivalry between his mother and that bitch Lagertha, though disregarding his own aspiring quest for glory. It was that rivalry, the rivalry for the throne of Kattegat, that had ultimately led to Aslaug’s murder by none other than the ambitious shield-maiden herself. His mother had been murdered in cold blood just for power.

“So are men, prince Ivar”, Haldis countered. “All people are power-hungry, it is an inherent drive. The majority of us just do not choose to pursue it.”

“Don’t start”, Ivar interrupted her, Margrethe’s mention of his failure burning in his memory. Shame was burning his chest. And anger and bitterness. A whirlwind of emotions sank in his heart and stifled him. “Leave me”, he groaned, as a strange pain numbed his whole body. He hated the world. He hated every damned person on this damned earth.

“No”, was her obedient answer. “I am not leaving you”, she said firmly, “You have had a terrible shock, prince.”

“Leave!”, Ivar barked but his voice wobbled involuntarily.

“No. You are in pain, prince. Let me help you”, she insisted, as she crouched next to him and gently placed her arms about his shoulders. And her statement was true. Ivar’s legs had begun to ache acutely- almost agonizingly. Yes. It was one of those days, when his legs hurt him more than anything else. He had been in this position many times before, but his mother had always been there to comfort him. Now it was just him. And Haldis.

She sluggishly helped him over a chair, in which he collapsed with a pained grunt.

Ivar took a deep breath and looked down to her delicate face, worry slightly coating her pale features, making them look brighter. 

“It’s nothing”, he managed to muster his voice, “Go.”

She reached for his hand and squeezed it softly. Ivar flinched at her touch but did not shove her away.

“I will stay. Is there anything I can do? Anything I could get for you?”

“No. It will pass. It happens sometimes”, he groaned as a wave of pain shot through his legs. He shuddered and, solely out of reflex, he gripped her hand tightly.

They stayed there for a long time, silent, their hands clasped together. They talked no more. They just waited for his pain to pass. And it did pass. It was like a temporary storm that starts out as an abrupt, violent downpour and it gradually dwindles, until it clears and there are no clouds to be seen and no tears to be shed. And when the pain wore off at last, he only gave the slightest of nods. And he saw her smile faintly as she got up and disappeared into the shadows from which he had emerged.

And as Ivar sat there, still hurt but no longer in pain, he realized that the sprigs of doubt in his heart had withered. 

He closed his eyes, feeling weary. The trail of her soft touch tingled the skin of his hand. Her image flashed before his mind, a pale, grey-eyed figure with stained clothes and tangled hair, but with an enigmatic smile.

Haldis…She had been his anchor in the storm.

“What was the little blind wench doing here?”

Ivar opened his eyes, only to be met with his brother’s judgmental gaze. 

“It is none of your concern, Sigurd”, he replied uneasily.

“I just do not understand why you do not get yourself a decent woman, instead of that mad-looking blind girl”, he chuckled, “But maybe the pretty ones do not even want to come to you.”

Not again...he could not withstand further humiliation. Ivar clenched his fists and gritted his teeth in an attempt to restrain his rising anger. Sigurd, noticing his discomfort, went on.

“Are you lonely, brother?”, he mocked, “Of course you are, now that mother is dead. It’s sad to think that she was the only woman that will ever love you.”

At this insult, Ivar was no longer able to hold himself back, his anger returned like a raging tide. He sprang towards Sigurd’s direction, frenzied like a man in battle. But Sigurd, who had been standing all along, gave a leap and fled, smirking triumphantly at his success to enrage his brother.

Ivar howled like a sad animal. Why? Just why? What had he done to deserve all this? Why did Sigurd behave like this? Gods, how he loathed him at times like this. But where did this rivalry, this enmity, between them come from? What was its source?

Ivar did not know. How could he? Sigurd had always been like this.

Sometimes he tried to convince himself that it was a good thing that rivalry, that it pushed him to become a better negotiator and trained his cunning, sharp mind. But no matter what Ivar told himself, this hateful feeling towards his brother pained him deep inside. He knew he could do nothing to stop it, this anger was a dark fury, held solely by the frail dam of his composure, which was ready to burst at any moment, leaving behind nothing but sad ruins. 

Little did Ivar know that the ruins left by his anger would be far more tragic than he could have ever fathomed. And it was in spring, where everything- love, life and happiness- blooms and thrives, that he finally saw it with his own eyes. And he could not unsee it. He could not undo the damage.

But that was long ahead, in spring. For now it was still winter.


	11. To light a candle

Haldis sat silently in the corner of the room where the four Ragnarssons were having their supper. She could hear Saga’s merry giggles and accidental snorts of laughter, as well as the chuckles coming from her partner, Prince Sigurd. The beautiful redhead was comfortably seated on his lap and was continuously pouring mead in his cup, while his arms were protectively snaked around her waist. The same went for Margrethe, who coyly clung to Prince Ubbe, the oldest of the brothers. Prince Ivar and Prince Hvitserk, the second oldest brother, were engaged in a very heated conversation about hunting. Outside the window a blizzard raged and raged, and the snow flew about violently in every possible direction. They were nearing the end of winter and yet, the weather had only worsened. 

But so much else had changed this winter.

Haldis placed her elbow on the wooden windowsill and rested her chin on her palm. She was happy that she was out of the horrid blizzard’s reach but she was feeling rather moody, without really knowing why. She could not wait a minute more for the arrival of spring. She did love spring. It brings change. It brings growth and beauty. It brings rebirth.

And she did have a feeling, albeit vague, that this spring would bring about more change than she could fathom. This winter was testimony of this. Because change either comes abruptly like an unexpected tide or slowly like the mist. And Haldis could already feel the mist forming, ever so slowly, in her life. What would it bring? She did not know. Not yet.

Her hunger reminded her of its existence as her stomach rumbled loudly. Fortunately, no one heard it through the noisy commotion, but it was not like they paid any particular attention to her either. With a small sigh, Haldis reached out for the small bowl of food that was placed on a stool on her right, waiting for her. Yes. A bowl of food just for her. She had not touched it so far, ignoring her hunger out of habit. But now, finally succumbing to it, she grabbed the wooden bowl excitedly and smirked slightly as she brought it close to her nose. She inhaled the aroma the food emanated and her smirk turned into a smile of gratitude and satisfaction. It was a stew, and a very rich one in fact. It was a mutton stew, filled with turnips, horseradish and parsley, as well as honey. The kitchen girls had sure adopted her grandmother’s special recipe. Honey goes with everything; it can even be used to treat wounds.

As she begun to eat, Haldis tried to focus her attention on the conversations that were being had on the table, but her mind kept wandering off dreamily and airily. Oh how daydreams can dictate one’s life!

After the day of Margrethe’s unexpected and quite unpleasant visit, much had changed. It was the day that Prince Ivar claimed her as his own slave. His. She had become his.

He had heard of Margrethe’s terrible words and he had suffered a sudden crisis of pain in his legs. She had helped him get through it, she had held his hand the entire time. And she had noted, although a little bit unwillingly, that their hands fitted perfectly somehow, as if it was lock and key together. And the feeling of their connection, one she had felt much time ago and had successfully shaken away, had returned in full force. This time to stay, to resonate within her. And make her accept submissively his claiming her. Almost as if she wanted it to happen. Almost.

From that day on, she had been his thrall. She served him and solely him, no other task was given to her. And, even though guiltily, she enjoyed the privileges that came with serving a prince. They were nothing too great- she was still a slave after all- but they did make a difference to her. She was now given food twice a day, had been given a few better and newer clothes and her tasks were so much easier than her old ones. There were no floors to scrub, no dogs to feed, no stews to cook or vegetables to peel, she was just to tend to Prince Ivar’s needs. And indeed his needs were so simple. She just had to tidy his room, change the sheets and furs of his bed, wash his clothes, draw him baths, serve him his meal, help him wear his armour if needed and accompany him somewhere if he asked. She did not even have to warm his bed.

That was something he would never ask of her.

However harsh or vulgar it had ringed, what Margrethe had said about Prince Ivar was indeed true. He could not please a woman. He had tried to, but he had failed. And that explained, as Haldis later observed, some of his bitterness towards his brothers. They had women. They had their working legs. They had everything.

Life went on. Haldis served Prince Ivar devotedly and their bond had strengthened with the passing of time. She could feel that he trusted her now, truly, shamelessly. So much had his trust for her grown that he had told her of the past. Exactly as she had predicted, he just told her one day before she left him for the night. It had been a gloomy day, one to match his mood. He had argued with his brothers, probably about a serious matter, and he had been feeling very tart. As she was standing at the threshold of the door he called her back. And he talked about everything. His story.

Haldis now understood why the air in Kattegat smelt of vengeance, ambition and restrained rage. She was now aware of the bloodshed that had marked the village; the murder of Queen Aslaug and Lagertha’s usurpation of the throne. She also knew of Ragnar Lothbrok’s tomfool killer, some Saxon king named Aelle. The past did explain everything. It explained the enmity between the Ragnarssons and Queen Lagertha, as well as the approaching return of her son, Bjorn Ironside. The sons would avenge their father- that everyone had for certain- but would the sons avenge their mother? Now that was an unanswered question. She could feel the hesitation that tantalized all the brothers except Prince Ivar. If someone ever killed the famous Queen, then it would be him. Ivar loathed the blond woman to death, Haldis could sense it, because she had killed his mother. And he indeed loved his mother. He had spoken so tenderly of her that day…it was the first time she had heard him speak so softly of someone else.

How much the past can explain…

Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard the loud sound of chairs being drawn back; Saga and Prince Sigurd were leaving the table. She could hear them laughing as they walked away, hand in hand, and Haldis suddenly felt a pang of jealousy prick her chest. These two were lovers now and, despite all of her warnings and unpleasant predictions, they seemed genuinely happy. It was not that Haldis was lonely anymore, no, she wasn’t, she did have her prince, but she did not have love. The only love she had ever known was that of her grandmother’s. Now that was gone as well. 

But what about the love of a man? What did it feel like to be embraced and kissed and be made love to? Oh how she wanted to know…

Why couldn’t anyone love her? Was she that hideous? What was it that made her so unwanted? Was it her eyes…gods why? Was she condemned to remain loveless until the end of her days? No…that could not be so…it just could not. All people should be loved. All.

Prince Ubbe and Margrethe departed also, leaving only Prince Ivar and Prince Hvitserk in the room along with herself. The two men were still conversing avidly, paying no attention to her. Haldis was thankful of that, for she could already feel tears build up in her eyes. Tears of a loveless slave girl. How pitiful… 

Haldis finished her stew, but its taste was no longer sweet. It was bitter, oh so bitter. As she was placing the bowl away, she noticed that the two men were whispering now. Intrigued, she tried to make no sound that would attract their attention and turned her head to the side so she could hear better what they were saying. Was she eavesdropping? Perhaps. Did she feel bad about it? No, not at all. She burnt with curiosity.

“You think he will marry her?”, she heard Prince Hvitserk inquire.

“He is head over heels, can you not see, brother?”, Ivar answered with a chuckle, “It’s only a matter of time.”

Prince Hvitserk gave a chuckle too. “I never thought our youngest brother would be married first. I must catch up with him, he did choose a very good one after all. That Saga is quite a beauty”, he added with a nostalgic sigh.

“Ubbe will soon be getting married too.”

Prince Hvitserk looked up in alarm. “To who?”

“To Margrethe, you fool!”, Prince Ivar smirked sarcastically, “Really, brother, I thought you were smarter than you seemed.”

“How do you know that? Did he tell you?”

“Really now? Have you not seen them? They literally cling to each other. Poor Ubbe, he is completely taken with her. Like a dog!”, Prince Ivar joked, though to a bystander his words would certainly sound insulting. Maybe they were meant to be so.

Prince Hvitserk scoffed and drank the rest of his mead. “Your little blind girl is a tremendous beauty for sure”, he said after a while. Haldis’s breath was caught in her throat because for a moment she thought he was being serious. But then her heart dropped for she realized he was taunting. She paled but said nothing.

Prince Ivar did not answer for a while. “No”, he said, “she isn’t. She is…”, his voice trailed off and he left his sentence unfinished.

“But I would not mind a night with her, to be honest. I have never made love to a blind girl before and”, something between a chuckle and a growl fell from Prince Hvitserk’s lips, “I am open to new experiences. I wonder what it is like”, he mused mischievously, as he leaned back in his chair and waited to catch the impact of his words but Haldis could feel him cast a lusting sidelong glance at her. Her heart was pounding, partly from fear and partly from an odd feeling, something close to excitement. What would Prince Ivar say? She was his slave. Would he allow someone else to have her?

“Quiet”, was his eventual answer, “She will hear us.”

“She is on the other side of the room, for Odin’s sake! I could be shouting and she would not hear a thing!”, Prince Hvitserk said, amused. Haldis wanted to chuckle at the irony of his words but she stopped herself.

“She is blind, not deaf”, his brother stated coldly.

“Whatever”, Hvitserk sighed nonchalantly, “I am lonely and since you are not giving me your slave, I will go find one for myself”, he stood up to leave. “Now, which one did I have last night? Thora was her name I think”, the tall prince walked off, muttering to himself in recollection.

Now it was just Haldis and Prince Ivar. He did not address her, so she stayed frozen in her seat, overcome by a mixture of faint bemusement, astonishment, but mostly, sadness. Of course she must be fated to be unloved forever, even Prince Hvitserk had mocked her appearance. Was she really that ugly? But why, when they first met, had Saga told her she was beautiful? Perhaps she was just being polite. 

Haldis rested her arms on the windowsill and buried her head on them with a small desperate sigh. She had been almost content the previous days; her more secure position providing her with a feeling of safety. But she was currently feeling more downhearted than ever…

And Saga seemed so happy…was Prince Sigurd really thinking of marrying her? Well, good for him. Even though Haldis still disliked the man intensely- even more now that she had witnessed his upsetting interactions with Prince Ivar- she could not bring herself to reprimand Saga anymore. She only wished the woman would find happiness as soon as possible…though she recalled having read on Saga’s palm that the redhead’s journey towards happiness- and long-lasting love- would be a long one. Haldis hoped she was wrong. But the quest for happiness- and love of course- is ever a hard and challenging one. Every single person in this world knows that. She knew of that herself.

Love…what does it feel like to be in love? That she did not know. How do you know you have fallen for someone, how do you identify your feelings as love? Is it so light and pure and heady as the poets and the bards sing it to be? Do you feel your world stop at its turning, are you only aware of the existence of your blossoming feelings and nothing else? And does is it simply happen to you? Do you just trip and fall into the bright, dizzying well called love?

So many questions but no answers. 

Haldis ever wondered. It was not her fault her mind always raced and raced, she was not to blame for her innate drive to always know more. Her grandmother always described love as such, as something poetic and divine but also as natural as the coming and the passing of the sun and the moon. But then again, her grandmother had been so very lucky in love. She had married such a good man, an endearing husband and later a loving father. Haldis had never met him, but from her grandmother’s tender descriptions she could tell he had been one in a million. She herself thought she was fated to be more like her mother; truly unlucky if not tragic. Her mother had not coped so well with her inability, despite her own mother’s efforts to teach her all she knew, and as a result she had grown up to become quite solitary and estranged. Looked down on by her peers, she succumbed to the first man she met, who seduced her and left her with child. As soon as her mother had told him of her pregnancy, he took flight and never returned.

These were Haldis’s parents. A sad existence of a woman who did not live long enough to know happiness and a faceless nobody. A passing shadow, a breath of wind, a flickering candle, a nobody. This was her blood. Just how much had she inherited from her parents? Was she cursed to be unhappy and unloved and chained forever? Oh…

The tears she had held back moments ago returned and this time to stream down her cheeks. She started to cry, silently, shrunk away in that corner, isolated from the rest of the world, this bitter grim world that has nothing to offer but pain and sorrow. Outside she could hear the wind hiss and howl and toss the snow about in a frenzy. She let out a small sob without being able to repress it. Winter had reached its climax, and so had her emotions. 

So had her sadness. And sadness chases happiness like the moon does the sun. They complete each other. There would be no happiness were it not for sadness and there would be no sadness if happiness never existed.

But why does sadness, sorrow, always seem to prevail?

“Haldis?”

A smooth voice, a man’s. 

“Haldis?”

A little hesitant. But concerned.

“Haldis! Look at me!”

Prince Ivar.

Haldis raised her head slowly, her cheeks soaked with tears. She shifted her head down at his direction.

She heard him gasp a little. “What happened?”, he asked sharply. She did not say anything. She did not have the courage to admit her pain.

“You heard Hvitserk?”

She was surprised he noticed. Again, he had seen right through her. She should not be so vulnerable. She mustn’t. But something broke inside her, the shell of her heart cracked and collapsed. The tide of her emotions was frantically struggling to fly out of her. She did not have the power to stop it. After so many years of being kept inside, it broke free. Her heart begged for release.

“Am I…am I truly that ugly?”, she asked between her small sobs.

He glanced at her, first in dumbfoundment and then in panic. “No!”, he exclaimed.

“Do not lie! Everyone says so! You said it yourself!”

“I am not lying. Truly”, he spoke slowly, “In fact, I think you are…”

Haldis straightened herself. “You think I am what?”

He shifted uneasily. “I think you are…you are…”

“Yes?”, she prompted him desperately. 

“You are…”, he hesitated for some time, “I mean I do not find you ugly”, he finally offered lamely.

Haldis pursed her lips together to prevent a sob from emerging. Realizing the extent of her discomfort, Prince Ivar came closer with a sigh.

“Beauty is not everything, Haldis”, he stated as comfortingly as he could, his vivid blue eyes fixed on her. 

“Easy for you to say”, Haldis countered icily, “All beautiful people say so. You do not know how it feels to be nothing all your life.”

“Nothing?”

“Yes, nothing”, she answered, as her crying resumed, “You are a prince, you can have anything you wish for. I cannot. I can never have what I want.”

Because of her crying she did not notice the slip of her tongue, her slightly offensive words. But she did not care if she offended him; not in that moment.

“I do not have everything I want”, he was strangely calm, “What it is that you wish for and cannot have, Haldis?”

“Freedom!”, Haldis cried out with feeling, “I want freedom and love! Tell me, prince, can I ever have that? Can a slave ever have that?”

Taken aback, he struggled to find the words. “Yes”, he said at last, “A slave can have those things.”

“Well, I do not have them nor do I think I ever will”, Haldis wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her dress. It was a warm dress of a dark blue colour. It had kept her warm throughout winter but now she was shivering. Maybe not because of the cold. 

Haldis inhaled and exhaled heavily. Calmer now, she turned to him. “Shall I do anything for you, my prince?”

“Yes, I was thinking of going to sleep. The training was very intense today”, he said mildly. Haldis got up and followed him to his room, where she helped him off his fur coat. She wondered if she should turn around while he was changing. But was there a point? She could not really tell how he looked like from afar. Nevertheless, an awkward blush formed on her cheeks.

“Is there anything else you need me to do?”, she asked him as he climbed into bed. She hoped there was not. She was feeling especially tired for some reason.

“Yes. Haldis…tell me why you think you will never be…loved. Or freed.”

The intimacy and the suddenness of his question startled her. But before she had the chance to restrain herself, to remind herself how important it was not to be vulnerable, her mouth had already opened. She had already begun to talk.

About her story. She told him her story, which she had told no one. Who would have known she would open her heart to him?

Life is full of surprises. 

And that incident did bring them closer. For they now understood each other through the past. And the past, it explains everything.

More days passed. Haldis was happier now. And, as Prince Ivar had accurately predicted, Prince Ubbe did wed Margrethe. The ceremony was not too lavish or excessive, in fact, it was quite simple for someone of his position. Not many people attended, there were his brothers, of course, Queen Lagertha and a small entourage. Her son’s wife, the shield-maiden Torvi, was also there with her children. And, although by mistake, Haldis caught an odd tone in Prince Ubbe’s voice as he greeted the smiling woman.

As the officiator chanted prayers to the gods, Haldis could feel the tension in the air, coming from all sides. Queen Lagertha sat straight as a rock, almost as if she did not wish to be there. Prince Hvitserk seemed to struggle to restrain his jealousy, Prince Sigurd seemed impatient and her prince sat a little too stiffly. Perhaps the memory of him and Margrethe was replaying in front of him. These things- traumas- are not easily forgotten. They get carved into your memory and stay there, some of them forever. It takes much courage to overcome and forget.

The bridal race begun. Prince Ubbe and Prince Hvitserk run after each other, like little naive children playing a game. People cheered them on, Margrethe was laughing, so was Saga, Torvi and other women. Prince Ivar was not. For he could not do what they were doing.

It is strange to think how someone’s happiness can sadden someone else. But well, as they say, to light a candle is to cast a shadow. The shadow is inevitable.

Prince Ubbe won the race. As Haldis clapped like the rest of the people, she sensed someone approaching.

“What did you think of the ceremony?”, Saga’s warm, cheerful voice sounded from behind her.

“It was…simple.”

“It was magnificent!”, the redhead exclaimed with her usual tone of enthusiasm, “And Margrethe looked very beautiful in her bridal clothes. I am so happy for her! To marry the man she loves…makes me jealous of her, to be honest”, Saga added quickly and glanced at Haldis to catch her reaction.

Haldis turned to face her friend. “Tell me what it is that you want Saga. I promise I won’t snub you”, she said with a smile, knowing too well what Saga had come to announce.

Saga took a deep breath. “Sigurd promised to marry me”, she smiled dreamily, “He did, he promised. I might be in her place very soon.”

Haldis squeezed the woman’s hand. “I am happy for you”, she simply said.

Saga’s face lit up. “Really? You will not tell me he is wrong for me?”

“Should I tell you, will you change your mind?”

“Of course not”, Saga smiled firmly, “Never in a million years! I love him!” 

“Just do not get carried away”, Haldis tried to warn her, but the woman had already run off. She sighed. Spring was coming and love had already begun to fill the air. Too suffocating it was. She hoped there would be no heartbreak, she really did.

“Haldis, what has you looking so grim?”, she heard Prince Ivar ask, as he was crawling towards her.

“Oh, it’s nothing”. Haldis gave a gracious smile. Birds were chirping and a few sunbeams fell on her, warming her feebly. The snow under their feet had melted and had almost disappeared- for good. 

It marked the end of winter. It marked the beginning of spring. The time of change.

“Well, there is no reason for you to look all sad”, she heard him speak and take a big breath, “For soon you will be free.”

She looked up in shock. “W-what do you mean?”, she floundered, unable to find the words. A million thoughts crept into her mind at once.

“I cannot give you love, Haldis”, he smiled, “But I can give you freedom, if that is what you want.”

Her legs were trembling, her hands on her mouth, tears in her eyes. The sun was shining now.

For it was the time of change- of the mist.

And freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote 'To light a candle is to cast a shadow' is written in the book 'A Wizard of Earthsea' by Ursula K. Le Guin. Of course there are many ways to interpret this beautiful quote but I take it as such: to be positive attracts negativity. Happiness goes side by side with sadness. 
> 
> If you have a different opinion, please do tell, I will be happy to read it. :)


	12. Ode to spring

The sand was smooth, as soft as a feather. The waves caressed the shore softly, tenderly- almost motherly. The sun beamed proudly and strongly, reminding the world of its everlasting significance. Seagulls danced above, their song capable of lulling her to a deep sleep. The wind gently whispered secrets in her ear and the air smelt of salt and serenity. It all felt surreal- as though it was a dream.

It all seemed too perfect to be true, didn’t it?

One of the seagulls gave a keening cry, loud enough to wake her from her trance. She awoke with a start, but, as she adapted to reality, her thin lips formed a cordial smile.

It was real. She was free.

Freedom. She mouthed the word soundlessly, its taste in her mouth so oddly alien. Its aftertaste though; that was something else entirely. It was a sweet, elevating feeling, a flutter in her chest that made her head giddy.

The impossible, the improbable, had happened. Prince Ivar had freed her. Out of the blue. She did not know why. She could not tell. All she knew was that she was drunk on a single word- freedom.

Haldis sat up on her spot near the water. She stretched, leaned back on a rock and then sighed, but not in desperation. For the first time in many years she sighed in true, undiluted happiness.

She inhaled, taking in the salty essence of the breeze and, her arms tight around her knees, she recalled the events that had occurred the previous day, the day of Margrethe’s wedding. And Haldis’s last day as a slave.

Prince Ivar had freed her as soon as the ceremony was over. He had just come and spoken of his decision. His words still ringed in her head like the otherworldly notes that flow out of a lyre.

‘I cannot give you love, Haldis’, he had said, ‘But I can give you freedom, if that is what you want.’

And oh how it was what she wanted!

Haldis laughed at nothing in particular and hugged her knees tighter.

_She had been in such a state of shock at his words that she had immediately dropped on her knees, almost incapable of processing what he had said. The first thought that had rushed through her stunned mind was that he was playing a malevolent farce on her- that he was lying. But then his voice had sounded again, confirming his announcement, and the genuineness in it had been crystal clear._

_"Why?", she had managed to murmur, the quivering in her voice almost making her inaudible._

_He had shrugged. "I just felt like it. You had a wish and I granted it. Nothing more than that."_

_His explanation did not account for his decision, but at that moment she had felt too weak, too overwhelmed to ask. Her mind had turned into a sea of thoughts and she was drowning in its deep waters. She had to get out of there, to disappear, before the torrent all flew out of her in a passionate outpouring of emotion._

_"C-can I…may I…", unable to continue, she had gestured towards the woods._

_He got her point, apparently, for he nodded. "You may go" he said, "but make sure you come back. If you don’t, I will have you chased down." He had spoken lightly, his voice only slightly shaded by the threat of pursuit._

_A sob had already been making its way from down her chest and up her throat, so before she burst into an uncontrollable crying, she took flight, madly, toward the trees. She run until she felt as though she had truly disappeared. And then she burst into tears on the spot, her heart palpitating, her mind fogged. She sobbed quietly under a large tree that provided shade from the rising spring sun. But she was crying for sheer joy and that was all it mattered in the moment._

_After she had calmed down and her crying had ceased, she had stayed there for a long time, leaning on the thick tree trunk, taking as many big breaths as she could. Reason returned to her and retook hold of the reins of her ever-racing mind, as it made a huge effort to process what had happened._

_Questions presented themselves._

_Had he really, truly freed her? If yes, then why was he being so kind, so generous? It was not in his character to be so solidary. Even though he had treated her well, despite all their strange interactions, he still possessed a hardness- outwardly at least- that he nurtured as much as he took care of his axe. He said that she was granting her wish of freedom, did he mean that she was simply doing her a favour? But she had not asked for it! She had not begged, she had not even hinted such a thing. She had simply asked him if it would ever be possible for her to be free, all in the desperation of the moment. Had he mistaken it for a plea? Nevertheless, why had he done this? She was just a slave to him, was she not? A slave that he could just talk to- and trust. Nothing more._

_And if she was indeed free now, what was to become of her? The fact that he strictly ordered her to come back was testimony that she would still be under his authority. Perhaps he was not ready to let go, deep inside. What would she do? Would she stay in Kattegat and find a job? Was he to decide her future? She was indebted to him; she would have to let him do so if he wished and not oppose him. For if she did, she would certainly sound ungrateful as well as risk angering him._

_But if she was to still remain bounded to him, then would her freedom even be real?_

_Haldis sighed, at war with herself. Should she just run away? Should she stay and obey her prince? She was in desperate need of answers. And of a sign from the gods._

_As she was plunged in her thoughts, she heard a frantic fluttering of wings. She turned her head to the right but soon realized the fluttering was coming from above her head. She stood up and listened carefully. More fluttering sounded, followed by a feeble chirp. Haldis extended her hands to the low branches of the tree that reached the same level with her head. She was immediately met with a soft, small bundle of feathers; a little bird was tangled at the dense greenery of the branch and was struggling to disentangle its little claws. Haldis helped it slowly and patiently and, once the little bird had been freed, she took it in her hands. It did not protest, instead it nestled in her clasp and stayed there, satisfied. Haldis sat back down and stroked it with her finger._

_It was a martin; she could tell from its size. Martins always appear in spring, in fact, they always flood the streets and the woods, signalling the beginning of the season._

_As dusk approached, a gentle breeze began to blow, kissing Haldis’s skin. The little martin seemed to awaken. It flapped its wings slightly to get its message across; it was about time it left. To find its family. Its life. Haldis gave a giggle and obediently raised her hands in the air, setting the small bird free._

_She smiled. The ways of the gods are oh so capricious. It was one of the very few times they had responded to a plea of hers instantly. They had sent an omen._

_It was high time she returned as well. To her life. To her freedom, which she ought to embrace whatever the circumstances might be._

_So she went back. To Prince Ivar._

_She headed for his room, where she was certain he would be. Once she reached the door- it was closed- she stopped and brushed the dirt and leaves off her blue dress, and run a hasty finger through her long wavy hair, in an attempt to tame it. She took a deep breath and wondered why her heart had started drumming in her chest so suddenly. It must be her gratitude._

_She knocked on the wooden heavy door._

_“Come in”, his muffled response reached her ears and her body gave a strange little jolt at its sound. He knew it was her. Perhaps he was expecting her._

_“Prince”, she addressed him in a quiet voice as she entered, in an effort to gather the courage that suddenly seemed to desert her. “I have come back.”_

_He smirked. “Yes, I can see that for myself.”_

_“Is it true, what you said? That I am free?”_

_“Of course it is. You did not think I would fool you, did you?”_

_It was her turn to smile faintly. “Perhaps I did.” He only shrugged in response and turned his attention to the fireplace, where a small but ardent fire burnt._

_Haldis hesitated for a minute and fumbled with her dress, unable to find the words to express the strange emotion that had overcome her._

_“I…I must thank you”, she took one step forward, finally finding her voice. “Thank you from the bottom of my heart for what you did. For freeing me.” With every word she stepped closer to him._

_“It was nothing”, he stated dismissively._

_Haldis finally crouched next to him. “It is everything to me.”_

_She heard him take a sharp intake of breath. “Good”, he simply said._

_“Thank you so much. For your kindness”, she went on, pushing the boundary. He shifted uneasily at the sound of the last word._

_“It was not out of kindness”, he muttered and Haldis decided not to press him further. Whatever his reason for freeing her had been, she should not care. It only mattered that he had freed her and that was what she should be- and was, she really was- grateful of._

_“Now that I am…free…what am I to do?”, Haldis enquired sheepishly._

_He raised an eyebrow. “Why, you are to stay in Kattegat of course. Aren’t you?”, he prompted her with a cool manner._

_Of course. She was to stay there. There was no other option. And in truth, she did not really mind._

_“Yes”, she duly replied, “I am. But I will need a job to make my living”, she added thoughtfully._

_“I am sure you will take care of that”, he sounded a tad nervous, “You are free to go to the village. But you must come back every day. That is my condition for freeing you.”_

_“I did not know there was a condition”, Haldis exclaimed in surprise._

_“Remember, I make the rules not you”, he said arrogantly, “And you must do as I say. Don’t forget I can take your freedom as easily as I gave it to you.”_

_A shadow passed over Haldis’s face. “So it is not permanent? Do you wish to take advantage of me, prince? If so, you’d better make me a slave again.”_

_“No!”, he exclaimed, agitated, “That is not what I meant”, he grunted, “You are free, completely free, but you will…”, he struggled to find the right words, “be under my supervision”, he finally offered lamely._

_Finally realizing what he truly had meant to say, Haldis offered him a generous smile and protested no more._

_He wanted her, no, he needed her there. They were companions after all._

_Silence filled the heated air. Prince Ivar was fidgety, clearly eager for her to leave._

_“I will now take my leave”, Haldis announced eventually, internally wandering where she would sleep that night. During her days as his slave, she had slept on a shadowy corner of the Great Hall, but she doubted that she would be let in now that she was considered an outsider. Oh well. A small corner on the market would do._

_“Alright”, was his cold response. She could feel how uncomfortable their conversation had made him. Well, she should have expected that; he was no sentimental person._

_“Haldis?”, he spoke, as she was making her way to the door, her footsteps light._

_“Yes?”, she replied eagerly._

_He opened his mouth, but, regretting it in a fraction of a second, closed it again. “Goodnight”, he said after a moment’s pause._

_“Goodnight”, Haldis repeated with same wan tone, curiously disappointed at his coldness._

_She headed outside and begun walking away, searching deep inside her mind for the memory of that autumnal day she had walked with the slave trader from the market to the Great Hall. She needed to remember the route they had followed so she could go to the market and find somewhere to hide her night away. She was doubtful that she would manage to sleep, her wariness of the dangers of the night already stressing her._

_She groaned, unable to trace the memory of that day. It felt so distant, so faraway, and, no wonder, it had been a long time ago. Both autumn and winter had passed and her memory had moved on accordingly._

_Speaking of seasons, the weather was chillier now. It was only the beginning of spring, so the nights were still stubbornly clinging to the winter weather. A bone-chilling breeze was blowing, but the air was humid, reminding her of autumn. Haldis hugged herself, as goosebumps were raised across her skin._

_Where would she go? She certainly should not start wandering around and risk getting lost, nor should she return to the horrible excuse of a room where the slaves slept. That should become just an ugly memory, if not a memory at all._

_Being intently absorbed in her thoughts, Haldis failed to be fully aware of her surroundings and accidentally tripped over a mud puddle that lay grandly in her path. She fell forward with a splash and she grunted as a sharp pain immediately shot to her knees. Great, just what she needed. An injury and dirt._

_She sat up, frustrated, her dress and shoes soaked in mud. She cursed her carelessness and proceeded to sit there, contemplating her misfortune and sulking like a bat-tempered child. She had no other dress. Now how would she able to find a job in the village, if she made a bad impression with her disheveled appearance? No to mention that she was sure to catch a cold if she stayed all night with wet clothes._

_“What in the name of Odin are you doing there?”, a surprised voice sounded from above her. Haldis blushed at the embarrassing situation she had been found in._

_And to add insult to injury, the owner of the voice just had to be Berit._

_“Eh!”, the old woman’s crabby voice brought her down to earth, “I asked what the hell you are doing lying in the middle of the path, next to the mud puddle!”_

_“It is my concern only”, Haldis responded rather rudely, feeling tears of frustration and embarrassment pricking her eyes. But what did it matter if she was rude? Berit no longer held any authority over her._

_Berit cackled all of the sudden. “Is that how you enjoy your freedom? Like a pig?”_

_“Excuse me?”, Haldis gasped, offended and surprised simultaneously. Did Berit know that Prince Ivar had released her? “You…know I was freed?”_

_“Of course I do. Prince Ivar told me himself. Though what struck him and he decided to free you, I don’t know”, the woman commented sharply and Haldis detected the usual begrudging tone in her voice._

_“I am not a pig. I fell down”, Haldis explained embarrassingly._

_Berit scoffed. “You were sitting there for a good amount of time. I could see you from afar.”_

_“I was thinking.”_

_“Of what? That you like mud?”_

_“No!”, Haldis snapped, annoyed and red-faced, “I have nowhere to go! I was trying to think of a solution! Is that so funny to you? Have you come here to mock me?”_

_Berit looked about awkwardly. “Now, now, child”, her raspy voice was suddenly softer, “Don’t be mad. I was not mocking you out of spite. I am always like this”, she confessed. “Now, why don’t you go and sleep at the Great Hall?”_

_“They won’t have me, I am sure”, Haldis answered in a low voice, taken aback by Berit’s sudden display of friendliness. It was as if she had transformed in an instant from a dour woman, to a sympathetic old grandma. “Perhaps you know where I can find a…ditch that I can sleep in?”_

_Berit grimaced. “No. But I know some taverns where you can rent a room for only a little gold.”_

_“I have no gold.”_

_“None at all?”_

_“None.”_

_“Do you have any friends or relatives around the village?”_

_“I…of course not”, her voice wavered pitifully._

_“I see”, Berit murmured and scratched her head. An awkward silence occurred and Haldis expected the woman to leave. Her head was burning in shame and confusion, and the humid atmosphere was no help at all. But, much to Haldis’s irritation, Berit remained there, clearly in deep thought._

_“What is your name, you said?”, she broke the silence at last._

_“Haldis.”_

_Berit contemplated something for a bit and then nodded at herself, finally deciding. “Stand up”, she ordered._

_“What?”, Haldis asked, baffled._

_Berit groaned in irritation. “Will you stand up or is it too hard for your majesty?”, she asked, her voice filled with sarcasm._

_“I…yes, of course”, Haldis stood up swiftly, accidentally splashing one of her feet in the puddle in the process._

_“You almost make me change my mind, you clumsy girl”, the old woman grumbled and then straightened herself. “Now, follow me.”_

_Haldis, having been rendered speechless, did not move._

_“Ah, for Odin’s sake, child! Do you want shelter or not?”, Berit asked in obvious exasperation._

_“Yes”, Haldis managed to mutter._

_“Then follow me before I change my bloody mind!”_

_And with these words, Berit turned to her heels and started walking with big, hurried steps. Haldis rushed after her, shocked, barely able to process what was happening. Was Berit, the grumpy, ever-grudging Berit, going to offer her shelter? Gods…why had spring made everyone so…kind? Was the world coming to an end? It most certainly was, there was no other possible explanation._

_They walked in silence for quite some time, until they entered the woods and reached a clearing. There stood a small wooden hut, surrounded by an abundance of trees, bushes and plants. Berit produced a key from her coat’s pocket and unlocked the door. She entered and then, with a sigh, beckoned Haldis inside. The latter obeyed and came to stand in a narrow hall awkwardly, a thick heavy sent of rustiness- of oldness- hitting her nose at once._

_Berit removed her fur coat and hung it on a metal snag by the wall. “I will go light a fire and fix us some supper. You go”, she sneered, “and draw yourself a bath. The room is the second one on your right. Can you find it?”_

_“Yes”, Haldis could only mutter in astonishment._

_“Toss your clothes outside so you can wash them tomorrow morning. I will find some clothes you can borrow until then. Alright?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Good. Now, go and do not take too much time” Berit turned away and walked in another room. Haldis heard the sound of angry cursing and wood being dragged about._

_Shocked as she were, Haldis did as she was told. She found the right room; a space barely big enough to contain a wooden tub and a few tin cans full of water. She filled the tub with as little water as she could- she did not want to anger her hostess by using too much- and removed her muddy dress and shoes, tossing them to the ground. And for the first time years, Haldis had the pleasure of a true bath. Of course, Berit could not provide her with aromatic water- that was something only wealthier people had the privilege of enjoying- but still, Haldis felt like a queen. During her years as a servant, the only kind of bath she could ever have was in a river and that only if she was even allowed to wash herself in the first place._

_Haldis closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. She remembered that during her early childhood, when she would bathe her, her grandmother would pour flower petals in the water so their wonderful scent would be ingrained in Haldis’s skin. Haldis wondered if the trick indeed worked. She noted that she should definitely try it out; it was one of the first things she would do now that she was free._

_She was free. Free. Haldis could not believe it._

_She pinched the skin of her forearm, in order to check if it was all real. Perhaps it all was a dream induced by a fever, a mere hallucination._

_But her skin, as she pinched it, stung momentarily. No, this was not a dream. It was real- all of it._

_What was she to do tomorrow? She would stay in Kattegat, that was set; Prince Ivar had indirectly told her there was no other choice. Haldis had to find a job in the village as soon as possible, something that would pay at least enough for her to have a room and a piece of bread each day. And then, with the passage of time, if she could earn enough gold she would buy her own small cottage. Perhaps she could also have a farm too, keep some hens, sheep and cattle._

_Haldis let a small moan escape her lips. She should not dream that much. It was certainly not the time to make so many plans. It was vital she focused on the short-term future. Only that mattered- for now at least._

_She emerged from the water and dried herself with a sheet she found hanging by a spike on the wall. She picked up her clothes from the ground and, upon opening the door, she tripped on the bundle of clothes Berit had left there for her. She put on the dress- which barely fitted her- and, as instructed, left hers outside. She then found her way to the room Berit had lit the fire in._

_Berit was sitting on a stool that faced the fire, eating a bowl of soup. She was so absorbed in her own thoughts that she did not notice Haldis’s presence. Only when Haldis coughed awkwardly did the old woman finally raise her head and see her._

_“Shit”, she grumbled, “I forgot you were here, Hilda”, a sigh escaped her, “Did you do as I told you?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Good. Are you hungry?”_

_“Yes, I am.”_

_“Here, then”, Berit reached to her left and grabbed a piece of bread. She offered it to Haldis , who took it._

_“Thank you”, Haldis muttered, feeling like a beggar that had been handed some food out of pity. She internally reprimanded herself for feeling disappointed. She should not be ungrateful, Berit had already done enough by offering her shelter and a tub to bathe in._

_Silence prevailed in the room, stiff. Haldis had slumped in a corner away from the fire since Berit had not defined where she should sit. The latter kept sipping her soup noisily, staring at the fire absentmindedly, lost in her own abyssal world. The fire, as if to mirror the woman’s mood, was crackling and spitting weak sparks; an indication that the wood had been used multiple times for the same purpose._

_The protest of Haldis’s stomach invaded the silence. Berit turned abruptly to her direction and Haldis blushed in embarrassment once again._

_“What was that?”, Berit asked, though she obviously already knew the answer. “Are you still hungry?”_

_Haldis contemplated saying no and avoid offending her hostess by sounding demanding. But the reply had already rolled from her lips before she could stop it._

_“Yes, of course.”_

_Berit stayed silent for a while and then sighed in defeat. “Would you like some cheese?”, she asked tentatively._

_“Yes, please”, again Haldis’s answer was instinctive._

_Berit stood up and headed to the kitchen. She was not gone for long when the clash of metal against the ground echoed from the room she was in. Haldis rushed in there- an equally small space- and helped her hostess pick up the fallen pots, cups and bowls. Berit, her face twisted in angry embarrassment, spat a curse._

_“Go”, she said, “I will handle it myself.”_

_“No, please, let me! Do not tire yourself!”, Haldis exclaimed, placing all the fallen items on the wooden counter, next to the sink._

_“I am perfectly capable of doing physical work, Hilda”, Berit protested, clearly offended, “I am anything but tired.”_

_“Oh I did not mean to offend you. Please let me show you my gratitude for helping me”, Haldis insisted and suppressed a smile. “Also, my name is Haldis.”_

_Berit made a gesture of further protest, but suddenly, as if the mention of her tiredness had affected her, she leaned on the wall wearily and groaned._

_“Very well, Haldis. Stuff these inside the hamper in the corner.”_

_Haldis did so quickly and when she had finished, Berit, still burning in obvious shame, walked up to the hamper and picked up a bowl. She then filled it with soup from the cooking pot, and handed Haldis the bowl._

_“There”, she said, albeit grudgingly, “eat up to satisfy your gratitude. Go back to the fire and I will bring some cheese.”_

_Haldis went back to what she decided to call the ‘fireplace room’- the fireplace was indeed the most distinct feature of the room. Wandering around she touched the walls and furniture so as to find out what it looked like. Not much else lied in the room, other than a bed made of straw, a pile of clothes- perhaps undone laundry- a clearly overused broom, a chair and a stool. This house- much like its owner- was dry and bitter and seemed so much older than it probably was. ‘Acidity and pain must have shrunk it to almost nothing. Just like Berit’, Haldis thought._

_Said acid woman returned soon enough with two small blocks of cheese on a plate. She begrudgingly beckoned Haldis to take one and then sat back on her stool, focusing again on the now weakly-burning fire._

_Haldis returned to her seat on the floor as well and ate her food slowly. The cheese was spoilt and the soup was watery and tasteless. But, as hunger knows no boundaries, she finished it all, ignoring the bad taste the cheese’s acidity left in her mouth._

_Haldis could not help but be astonished at Berit’s unexpected display of kindness. There was no doubt that this woman had come across much more helpless and desperate people than her, why had she chosen to help her when she had shown only dislike and disdain towards slaves?_

_Wishing to break the silence and overcome by emotion, Haldis straightened herself and faced Berit._

_“Thank you, Berit, for helping me tonight. I am so grateful for your kindness”, she said with feeling to the old woman._

_“Save your honeyed thanks for someone else, Haldis. They will not make me any softer or kinder”, Berit’s reply rang harsh and croaky._

_“I am not saying this to flatter you into helping me further, but of course you would think I would”, Haldis said sadly and shrugged, “You do not like me much, do you?”_

_Haldis received Berit’s silence as a confirmation._

_“Why did you help me if you dislike me so?”_

_Berit, her eyes never leaving the fire, clutched her dress in nervousness. Haldis heard her swallow and then sigh- again._

_“Because you remind me of myself, when I was younger”, the anticipated answer came and resonated within the shabby walls and Haldis’s heart._

_“You?”_

_“Yes. I was much like you. A slave for so long. A slave that dreamt of freedom, of love, of a beautiful life. I dreamt avidly of all these things and look where it got me”, she gestured at the room around her, “I never did get to have either of them.”_

_“But you are free now…”_

_“So what? I am too old to enjoy it, too old to rebuild my life.”_

_“One is never too old to live the life they have dreamt of living for so long.”_

_Berit gave a mocking chuckle and finally turned her head toward Haldis. “You see, that is where you are wrong, child. You grimace at my words, but yes, you are nothing but a child. You have seen nothing of life yet, absolutely nothing. You dream but you will soon learn that one cannot afford to dream in this cruel world we live in. And slaves should be the first ones to understand this. You think I am harsh on you and all the other girls? I have no other choice. I have no other choice but to remind you that there is only harshness and unkindness in this world and you must dream of nothing. If you do, you are bound to face the bitter disappointment of realizing that you can never have what you want. The true world, child, the true world is unkind and beastly…”, Berit’s voice was full of pain and raw emotion glistened in her wrinkle-circled eyes._

_“You say there is only unkindness out there, yet you helped me tonight…”, Haldis whimpered weakly, shocked at the woman’s words._

_“I did so, because someone did the very same thing to me years ago. I saw me, not you. I helped myself”, Berit explained tiredly. “I now wish I had never helped you”, she added slowly, “I only gave you false hopes. To dream!”_

_“No. I already dreamt. And I shall never stop hoping and striving for a better life for myself! Because life goes in the end! One should not waste it with tears and desperation”, Haldis exclaimed passionately, heat rising to her cheeks._

_Berit smiled wryly. “You say all that now that you have been freed. I can bet you were not so hopeful yesterday. I have seen your face many times, Haldis, and I would not say you seemed so willing to change your fate.”_

_“My fate?”_

_“Your fate was to be a slave. I do not know why on earth the prince freed you.”_

_Haldis felt anger bubble in her chest. “He freed me because he respects me! He wants me to be happy!”_

_“Oh really? Are you sure he does not want you to decorate his bed? And then abandon you once he gets bored of you?”_

_“Yes! He does not need me in his bed! He did it out of respect for me!”, Haldis cried in anger, though she was unsure if it was really respect that had driven Prince Ivar to free her._

_Berit laughed mockingly. “Men do not respect women- never. He simply has a motive you have yet to uncover. And your heart will be broken when you do. Reality will hit you in one way or another, child”, she turned back to the fire, “Your heart will be broken”, she whispered- perhaps more to herself than Haldis._

_At these words Haldis felt her anger vanish in thin air, only to give way to a deep sadness. Berit…she was a heartbroken woman. Something had happened- Haldis could feel it- something that had made every ounce of gentleness and happiness be drained out of her body and soul. Berit hid her pain under her rough mask of disdain; Haldis’s suspicions had been correct. What was the cause of her hurting? Even though her curiosity was burning her, Haldis did not dare ask._

_Berit eventually sat up. “It is late, go to sleep. So will I”, she informed coldly, while she blew out the fire and headed to the straw bed._

_“Where may I sleep?”, Haldis asked hesitantly._

_“Go to the kitchen. It is the second warmest room in this damned hut.”_

_Haldis wanted to say goodnight but Berit had already slipped under the sheet she used as cover, a clear indication that no other talking would be accepted. So she went to the kitchen and, using the sheet she had dried herself with as a pillow, laid down in a corner. She thought that it would take much time for her to fall asleep, as always, but it had been such a long and eventful day that she immediately drifted off to dreamland._

_One might not be able to dream while awake, but they can at least dream in their sleep._

_She woke up before the break of dawn. She was perfectly used to waking up at such a time and, as she sat up and became aware of where she was and why, Haldis felt a rush of energy stream through her._

_“Berit might think I simply want to flatter her but I want to repay her kindness- for she did show kindness- and nothing will change my mind”, Haldis whispered to herself as she stretched her body, rolled up the sleeves of her borrowed dress, and set to work._

_She groped around the room to get an idea of what it was like; it constituted nothing more than a timber counter and table, a straw hamper, a metallic sink, a large cooking pot, some tin cans filled with water and two barrels that were presumably used for the storage of food. The room stunk of rotten fish and meat and of this odour of rustiness that seemed to have penetrated the whole house, from its walls to the pots and even the food._

_Haldis tiptoed her way to the fireplace room, where Berit still slept and snored rather loudly, and grabbed the wooden broom. Within the next hour, she swept up the kitchen, cleaned the sink, pots, bowls and cups, skimmed through the contents of the barrel, dumped the rotting- and horribly stinking- waste and went outside to find some greens with which she could cook a stew. When the stew, filled with dill, leek and onions, was well and bubbling inside the cooking pot, Haldis washed her dirty clothes in the river and by the time the sun had set above the clear spring sky, they had already dried. Just as she was putting them on, Berit opened the door of the hut and eyed her as though she was a strange animal._

_“What on earth are you doing?”, she grumbled bad-temperedly._

_“Oh, good morning, Berit”, Haldis gave a bright smile, “Here is your dress, thank you for letting me wear it”, she spoke and handed said item to the old woman._

_“An odd sound is coming from my kitchen”, Berit pointed back at the hut, her demeanor groggy._

_“Oh, do not mind that, I made you a pot of stew. It is currently getting cooked. Now, shall I make us some breakfast? I found a jug of milk and a bowl of curd that have yet to turn spoilt. I also picked up some sloe-berries and strawberries from the bushes around here. Did you know your hut is surrounded by a glorious and thriving garden? If you tend to it, you shall never starve.”_

_Before the dumbfounded Berit could utter a response, Haldis had already marched in the kitchen and begun making breakfast, speaking cheerfully while she cooked. They ate their food in silence and when they finished, Haldis got up and washed their bowls and cups._

_Once it was all done, Haldis smirked in satisfaction, delighting in the fact that the good beginning of the day served as a positive omen for what was to come later._

_“Berit”, she spoke as she made her way to the threshold of the door, “thank you for your hospitality and kindness. I shall never forget it.”_

_Berit only grumbled in response. Well, someone was in a bad mood today._

_“Would you like me to bring you something from the market? You have completely run out of dairy, meat and fish.”_

_“No. I will be fine.”_

_“Are you sure?”_

_“Yes. Now, go.”_

_“Alright, then. The stew will be ready in a bit so make sure you put it out of the fire. Goodbye, Berit, and thank you again!”_

_Only when Haldis began to walk away- only then- did she hear a low murmur fall from Berit’s lips._

_“Thank you, child. Thank you.”_

A sudden gust of wind blew strongly, causing the waves to crash against the sand, spilling trickles of foam all over Haldis. Haldis burst into laughter and did not move from where she was sitting. She instead delighted in the cool touch of the watery foam and giggled as though she were a child.

She was happy. Because she was free.

After she had left Berit’s house behind she had headed to the market, where she had stopped by every stall asking the vendors if they were in need of an extra working hand. They kept refusing, most likely picking up the fact that she was poorer than the rats that flooded the streets. But Haldis had not lost her hope nor determination- the ever-shining sun above her providing her with the courage to go on. And it had paid off, this strength of mind. The last vendor she had asked did tell her to pass by the next day. They said that they would see whether they could find some work for her. Although it would surely not pay much, Haldis felt determined to make good use of the little gold she would earn.

As soon as her quest for a job had finished, she had headed to the shore, to calm herself from the sheer excitement that was making her heart hammer enthusiastically against her chest.

So here she was now, hours later, still sitting at the same spot, cooled by the breeze and the water and still overwhelmed by the same excitement.

But, most importantly, she was smiling. A big, sunny smile full of hope. For tomorrow.

And amid the horde of seagulls dancing in the shimmering heights of the sky, the cry of the martin sounded; clear and loud. 


	13. The Heartful

Spring is one hassle of a season. It brings nothing but heat and a headiness that affects the mind at a time when it should be as sharp as a newly-fashioned axe.

Ivar grunted and threw the furs of his bed at the side in utter frustration. Stubborn sweat stuck to his body, rendering him sleepless and exasperated. He wiped his forehead, indignantly cursing the unbearable heat; he should tell Haldis to put lighter sheets on the bed before he died because of it. 

But wait…he could not have her do so. She no longer served him. She would no longer be with him. He had freed her.

What had possessed him? What madness, what folly? What on earth had made him take such a decision, to free a slave? How absurd, it could be no earthly power that had led him to free her. It was undoubtedly the work of the almighty, for only divine powers can have such a terrifying control over man that he does the impossible.

But oh women, how much greater their powers are. How they do bewitch men…

He could not explain why he was so drawn to her. He could not account for the fact that he had grown to be dependent on her, on her presence in his life. He considered her an integrant part of his life and he did not know the reason. It was all so very frustrating, this fog of feelings.

When she had declared that her dearest wish was to be freed, something had stirred inside him. A sort of calling; a divine voice telling him what he should do. To grant her wish, to free her. To do a good deed. For her, the blind woman and the goddess of stones.

He had battled furiously with himself. It was a battle between the soul and the heart and he knew it. He desperately tried to remind himself of what he had been taught to feel and do from his very birth; to be an authority, a ruler, a merciless hard man. But it had been to no avail these reminders. The heart won, gloriously and triumphantly.

So he did obey that baffling instinct that so contradicted his principles and he freed her. He, Ivar the Boneless, proud son of Ragnar Lothbrok, freed a slave. Not out of spite, not even out of pity. No, not love either. He…just felt it was what should be done, what the gods wanted. And he obliged.

He did not love her, no, never. He could not love, he was unable to, and he had come to terms with the fact that he was not meant to experience this notorious feeling. Bards and poets sang of it with so much fervour, lamenting for its inevitability, but Ivar was aware that it would be of no use to him. No one could ever understand him. His own self had to be enough.

But why, when he was with her, did he feel that he was finally understood and…accepted? Not loved but accepted. He almost felt…wholesome in her presence…oh how?

It could not be. It shouldn’t. It was a curse- she was a curse.

He could no longer ignore the fact that he had grown so accustomed to the familiar presence of hers, her talks and her silences, her shadow, and her grey eyes that gazed straight into the unknown. He felt a trail of anger rise and bubble in his chest for what he just admitted. But he could not help it. Sometimes it is just better to…face the truth.

Yet, he could not accept what he had done, for it was a display of weakness of character. Showing interest in someone that grows to become dependency is, undeniably, a weakness. His brothers, who had numerous love interests, did not mind looking like weak fools who succumb to a mere sentiment. But Ivar did, he minded it horribly. He was neither weak nor a fool. He was strong. Stronger than anyone else.

He was sure his brothers would mock his freeing Haldis. But what of it? They had done similar things and worse, they had slaves a lovers; hell, Ubbe even married one. Lovesick fool.

Haldis…she had looked so happy, so grateful it almost pained him. She had thanked him for his kindness- kindness! He had flinched at that word, so ashamed was he. But his shame had been overshadowed by the expression of pure joy in her face and her smile that reminded him of the brightest of suns and the rosiest of flowers.

But now that she was gone, what would become of him? Who would he talk to? Who would he trust? Trust…

When she had come to thank him and he had hinted, as coldly as he could, that she would still remain under his authority, the shadow of disappointment painting her face had rendered him wordless; a pang of guilt in his heart. He had calmed her down quickly, explaining that she was indeed free but…she simply had to stay by his side.

Ivar groaned. Gods, he sounded so desperate and helpless. It was truly an embarrassment. But what can one do? The answer is simple; to go on.

As the sun dawned with annoying splendour, Ivar decided that there was no hope of falling asleep, so he sat up on his bed and readied himself for the day. He went through his usual routine; having breakfast, training, sharpening his weapons, visiting Floki. And even though nothing did go wrong, a feeling of unsettling emptiness was looming over his mind and soul the entire time.

It should not be this way. But then again what do we truly get to decide in this world?

Ivar raised his head slowly as he heard his name being called. He watched as Sigurd ran towards him and Ivar frowned involuntarily at the sight of him. As the days passed his brother became all the more difficult to tolerate. Their rivalry, their hate was threatening to get the best of them at any minute. What would happen if one day one of them lost control? Ivar did not wish to know.

“Ivar! He is here! Come, we must get to him!”, Sigurd cried out as he approached.

Ivar raised an eyebrow, not alarmed in the slightest. “Who?”, he asked calmly, as he eyed sweating brother in faint amusement.

“Lagertha’s son! Bjorn is back in Kattegat!”, Sigurd explained between sharp breaths.

Ivar furrowed his eyebrows. “Why?”, he enquired slowly.

“How should I know? I am not a seer. Though I think he has come back to talk about father”, it was Sigurd’s turn to frown, “Let’s go and find out. He has come in peace, it seems.”

‘Of course he has’, Ivar thought to himself, ‘Lagertha has been waiting for him.’

Ivar descended from the rock he had been sitting on and followed his brother to the Great Hall, which was crowded with the newcomers; warriors. Among the heavily-armored and rough-faced men stood a tall blond man, who was grinning from ear to ear. It was Bjorn Ironside; Ragnar’s eldest son and Ivar’s notorious half-brother. He had returned from his voyages for a reason too obvious; to avenge his father. All sons must contribute to vengeance and in honour of their father it was high time they took action.

“My son”, Lagetha’s placid voice ringed through the Great Hall and, at its sound, warriors and shield-maidens plunged in silence out of respect for their leaders. Mother and son embraced and whispered to each other and afterwards, Bjorn finally turned to face his brothers.

“It’s good to be back home”, he sighed after they exchanged the usual words of formality.

Ivar repressed an instinctive scoff that almost made its way to his lips. “And why exactly, may I ask, have you come back, brother?”

Bjorn chuckled. “You all know fairly well the reason”, his voice was calm and soft as always, his eyes coming back and forth from brother to brother. “We must do something. For father.”

A short silence occurred, again in honour of their father. He seemed to be much more worshipped now that he was dead. And it is no surprise that should happen; people usually become legacies only after their deaths. But Ivar did not desire such a fate. He wanted to become a living legend, a living fear, a living glory. The time would come.

“Yes”, Ubbe broke the silence, “we must. We have talked about raising an army. And now that it is spring, the weather will be in our favour. Men will come.”

“Yes, they will come if they are called”, Bjorn sighed again, as though the very thought of armies and wars was wearing him out. “And, strategically speaking, spring is indeed the ideal time to raise an army and invade a land.”

“Let us talk the details over a feast”, Ubbe offered duly, doing all the talk for the rest of his brothers. Out of the four of them, it was him who had always shown the most respect towards Bjorn. Personally, Ivar had never liked Bjorn that much and the other two, Hvitserk and Sigurd, had never made their true feelings towards their half-brother known.

For the rest of the day and for a good deal of the duration of the feast, the Ragnarssons, at last united for a mutual cause, discussed the preparations of their great expedition; the revenge of their father’s execution. Raising a large army and leading it towards not one, but two powerful enemies was nothing short of a difficult task- and the fact that failure was not an option certainly did not make it any easier.

But it was a good thing that their thoughts were preoccupied with the avenging of their father’s death, for it thwarted the emergence of malice- of enmity- between them. For there was an affair still unsettled lingering in the shadows of the walls, in the corners of the Hall, and above their heads. Aslaug’s murder. By Lagertha.

It took Ivar much effort not to make even the slightest mention of the injustice that had been committed in this very village. He clenched his fists during the entire meeting, occasionally shifting his attention away from the conversation to remind himself that one day he would personally take care of the wrong that had been done. He had sworn to avenge his mother and he would. 

But Ivar knew better than to anger Bjorn now by killing his mother; now that the man was sure to play a pivotal role in the future expedition. With no doubt, it would be him that would lead the great army they would work to raise. And, to his surprise, Ivar recognized that they needed his half-brother to succeed.

Everything happens for a reason, he supposed. Bjorn Ironside would lead the Great Heathen Army, but all the brothers would play their part in the revenge. And that was all that mattered now.

Once some important decisions had been taken, the brothers dispersed, all more than eager to revel in the feast. Ivar saw them scatter around, all headed to their lovers; Bjorn and Ubbe to their wives, Torvi and Margrethe accordingly, Hvitserk to his young fair-headed lover and Sigurd to his red-haired one. 

Ivar breathed heavily, growing increasingly more annoyed at the constant cloud of loneliness that haunted him ever since he could remember. The heat itched his skin and he grunted at his tragic fate.

As he crawled outside away from the crowd and into the cooler night, Ivar distinguished a small figure approaching from the shadows and the mysteries of the dark. Slowly but steadily, it was stepping closer to him. And he instantly knew it was her. Haldis. Brown hair, grey eyes. Dignified.

His heart swelled at her sight, so full. It was a mix of colourful emotions, hesitation, anticipation, longing, excitement. 

But, no, not love.

Of course not. It couldn’t be love.


	14. The Milkmaid

Everything happens for a reason. It is undeniable. Just like nature, with its machinations and purpose, so does life, and everything else that shapes it, have meaning.

Shaping a new life is quite hard and Haldis was well aware of it. But with sheer determination and strenuous effort she knew she could manage it. She knew how to work hard, after all, nothing had changed about the way she was. It was simply that she belonged to no one. Only to herself.

Her grandmother would be so proud… Haldis wondered whether her grandmother up above was now smiling and clapping her hands enthusiastically like she always did when she was happy. How she missed her… 

Haldis smiled faintly as she entered her new workplace. A week ago she had visited the stall owner who had told her he would try and find a job for her and he had announced that she could be hired as a milkmaid in his farm. Haldis had accepted immediately and so very gratefully. And so had her job as a milkmaid begun. So had her new life commenced.

The stall owner was a bulky middle-aged man named Agnarr with a gravelly voice and a jolly laugh. What had instantly struck Haldis the first time she met him was the kindness that coated his voice. And indeed Agnarr soon turned out to be a kind and sensible man; rare traits for men of his profession. He owned and managed the market stall where he sold the products of his farm. He had said Haldis should begin working immediately, so he led her to the farm, where Haldis met his wife and their horde of children. Annbjorg, his wife, was an equally kind and gentle woman, commonly known as Ann. She had showed Haldis around the farm and had explained what her duties as a milkmaid would be.

As a milkmaid Haldis would have to come at the farm at dawn to join the other girls and begin milking the cows. After they had completed that task, they would scatter to make their assigned dairy product. Haldis had milked a cow before; back at her grandmother’s farm they had a kept a cow- which was curiously named Fugl, meaning bird- and it had been one of the first farm tasks she had learnt to complete. What she had never learned was how to make cheese and butter, though she did have a vague knowledge on how to make curd and yogurt. Ann reassured her that it was only a matter of practice and that the job required little skill, other than complete and meticulous attention. And she, Haldis later found out, was right. It was definitely hard work but she promised herself that she would perfect it. After all, how many years would she spend being a milkmaid? Many, she was sure. It was her new life.

She had told Ann that she had nowhere to stay, so the understanding woman had suggested she slept somewhere in the farm until she had earned enough to find someplace to live permanently. What Haldis would earn was not a lot, just a few bronze coins, but she was told by the other milkmaids that there were many taverns that took in people for much less.

Her fellow milkmaids were four other girls, friendly and young. Haldis appreciated the fact that they at least treated her with respect and not with the contempt and disdain of the kitchen girls back at the Hall. These girls, despite being poor, were self-assured and duly minded their own business. Of course, Haldis could not blame the kitchen girls for being so scornful, since they were condemned to a lifetime of slavery, but still she had been deeply discomforted by their attitude. Well, it did not matter now. They were her past. The milkmaids were her future.

Throughout the week she had devoted herself entirely to learning her tasks. One of Ann and Agnarr’s daughters, Alva, a tall woman with a voice almost as deep as a man’s, showed her how to make butter and cheese. Haldis had struggled at the beginning, for she had told no one she was blind and it was difficult to pretend she could see what was being demonstrated to her. She felt bad for lying to such kind people, but she did not want to risk losing her job by declaring her inability. Nevertheless, keeping that secret made her deeply uncomfortable for the first time in her life. The family was genuine and unsuspecting and she was a liar. These people were indeed so very genuine and warm, while she…was no better than a cold opportunist. It was a heavy weight to carry on one’s chest and an even heavier secret to hide.

As she was currently heading to the place where the placid and well-fed cows were kept, she was greeted by the family’s eldest son, Keipr. When he had been first introduced to her, Haldis had barely repressed her urge to break out in laughter, for the word ‘keipr’ literally meant ‘small boat’. The man was indeed small but he was friendly and charming, always running around to do errands and heartily talking to everyone he encountered on the way.

“Such a good morn we have today, Haldis, no?”, he spoke cheerfully, as he bent his lithe body to pick up a barrel he would presumably deliver to the his father’s stall.

“Yes”, Haldis answered politely, “the weather is very warm.”

“Perfect for a walk, don’t you think?”, he gave her a wide grin and she nodded in agreement. “Such a shame we both have to work”, he continued, “or else I would take you to the village and show you around.”

Haldis blushed at such a display of interest in her person. From a man.

“Show me around?”, she tried not to stammer. “Why?”

“You are new to Kattegat, are you not?”, he raised an eyebrow, “Mother has told me you have not even found a place to stay yet. I thought you would perhaps need a guide.”

“Yes, I am sort of new”, Haldis admitted uneasily. She had not told them she used to be a slave to their rulers either. Another lie, but what could she do? That was something she did not want anyone to ever know. Not when she was trying to forget that herself. “But I can find my way around. There is no need to worry about me. Though thank you for offering.”

Keipr chuckled and placed down the barrel he had just picked up a few seconds ago. “I am not worried about you, Haldis”, he walked up to her, “You look perfectly self-sufficient. I thought perhaps we could be friends and that was my way of asking.”

Of course. It was clear now; he must be looking for a woman. Haldis flushed so much that she could feel the heat burn her cheeks. Had she caught the eye of a man? She could hardly believe it.

“Friends…yes, of course we can be friends”, she floundered in embarrassment, “But I really must get to work, Keipr, or I will be late”, she added quickly.

As she hurried away with big flustered steps, she heard Keipr laugh and shout to her.

“Alright, Haldis, we will talk later! Don’t think you will escape the walk!”

Haldis arrived at her destination, fuming in embarrassment and fluster. Keipr was a kind man, but his suggestion had startled her. She could tell that he was used to doing that- being charming, that is- Haldis was almost certain he said such things to every woman that came to work in the farm. She felt flustered nonetheless, for never had she ever been courted. And in truth…she was scared of actually being so.

Love is a complicated matter and Haldis did not wish to complicate her new life by pursuing it. In time it would come to her. Besides, prince Ivar- no. Haldis berated herself for bringing him in mind while thinking about love. She did not have feelings for him! She liked him, yes, quite a lot, but he was just…a friend, if she could even call him that. But love…gods no. It is too strong a feeling and she certainly did not regard him in that way.

Speaking of prince Ivar, she would have to visit him later that day. The last time she paid him a visit was a week ago. She had come to him during a feast, though he had reassured her she was not imposing. He had explained that his half-brother- Queen Lagertha’s son- had returned to Kattegat to organize the revenge of their father’s death. He told her the details of their plans and together, under the dark night sky, they had discussed them. An army would have to be raised, apparently, and then led against two Saxon kings. A dangerous undertaking, but the sons must avenge their father. It is what ought to be done.

With a sigh Haldis shook her thoughts away for later and set to milking some of the cows. She was usually the first to arrive, waking up before the break of dawn out of habit, so she was alone. She wondered whether she should talk to the other girls about Keipr, but she felt hesitant since they were still not very familiar with each other. As the sun began to set over the clear morning sky, the rest of the milkmaids started arriving and setting to work themselves, albeit a bit groggily.

After Haldis had finished the milking, she collected the two bucketfuls of milk and headed inside the farm to start preparing butter. Alva had taught her through the entire process of making cheese, as well as butter, which was what Haldis had been told to make for the day.

She began by storing the new milk away and skimming the previous day’s milk. She slowly poured the now creamy liquid in the wooden churn and began churning it; slowly and steadily as Alva had instructed her. After a while she separated the buttermilk from the butter and stored the former in tins for their daily delivery to Agnarr’s stall; no Viking household could ever have enough buttermilk. She added salt to the formless butter and, using a wooden tool, she patted it until it was in a manageable shape. She then deposited the product for its later delivery and repeated the same procedure with the remaining buckets of milk.

As Haldis was doing her work, her thoughts flew over to all the people she had met ever since her arrival in Kattegat. Saga, her first friendly encounter and a sworn friend, Berit, the ostensibly unkind old woman who was undoubtedly hiding a terrible secret, Dagny, a young slave eager to live and dream, Margrethe, the stereotypical ambitious and scheming thrall, now Agnarr and his family, and of course, Prince Ivar himself. A prince! She had not only made the acquaintance of a prince but bonded with him as well. She had bonded with a prince! The whole situation suddenly sounded so absurd to her she burst into laughter at the thought.

But it was all thanks to him, Haldis thought to herself with a bittersweet smile, that her life had changed. Just when she had thought that she would never earn her freedom back- her very own life- he had handed it to her. And never once in her life- and certainly not when she had been brought to the village- had she fathomed that everything would change so drastically in one day.

She had never cared to imagine that her frame of mind, from a grim and pessimistic one, would turn into a bright hopeful mindset dominated by sunny dispositions and determination. She had never considered herself to be an optimist, so unlike Saga who always tended to seek the positive in every situation even when it did not seem fit to do so. But well, now the future seemed so illuminating, so alluring, the very thought of it made her want to laugh and dance and sing to no end.

When she was done with her work it was getting on for midday. Haldis tidied up any mess she had made and set to tend to the cows. On her way she encountered a breathless Alva who was wheeling a barrow full of hay.

“Are you alright? Would you like some help?”, Haldis asked her, as the tall woman panted heavily.

“I would not mind some help, thank you. This damned barrow has rusty wheels. Makes everything heavy to carry, even hay”, Alva accepted and spat towards the old cart.

“I told father he must barter it for a better one, but he does not listen”, Alva continued as Haldis moved next to her, so she could help her pull the vehicle forward. “He instead gave half a silver a coin for two cartfuls of hay. Half a silver coin, can you bloody imagine it?”

Silver coins were of the highest value due to their rareness; only the wealthiest could afford to give away a whole coin. Haldis listened as Alva kept complaining about her father’s careless spending and how it would affect the farm.

“I thought the farm was doing very well financially.”

“Yes, Haldis, everyone thinks so too”, Alva sighed, “But the fact that most of our products get sold does not mean we do not face difficulties. We have fallen on hard times and father refuses to acknowledge it.”

“How so?”

“Much money is needed to run such a big farm and an equally successful stall, so, naturally, we cannot afford to make any trivial purchases. We don’t need any hay. Our animals are very well-fed by the grass and the greenery around here. But father never thinks before he acts! He is going to ruin us, I am sure.”

“Oh, Alva, please do not say such things. I do not think Agnarr would ever do anything to lead his family to ruin. He is…so kind.”

“That is precisely the problem, Haldis. He is too kind. He bought this hay from a begging vendor. Of course he could not refuse him, he cannot refuse anyone. He did not refuse you. I am very sorry for saying this- you are such a good girl, Haldis- but we were not in need of another milkmaid or any other person to work in the farm, for that matter.”

Haldis’s heart dropped in her chest. “If I am dead weight, then I should go, Alva. I do not wish to cause you any difficulty.”

She really did not want to weigh the family down, even if that meant having to return back to the streets, jobless and poor.

Alva chuckled. “Ah, you cannot go now, my friend. We have gotten used to you”, she winked at Haldis and patted her shoulder.

They really were kind people, Haldis thought as she walked away from the woman, who had begged her to go help Agnarr in the stall. All of them were. 

Good-natured, easy-going people. So rich in the milk of human kindness. And no, that had nothing to do with the fine cows they kept.

“Ah, Haldis!”, Agnarr’s booming voice ringed in her ears as she approached the stall, “What brings you here? The butter has been delivered and is excellent!”

The market was bustling; worrying villagers ran from stall to stall, hurrying to purchase goods in the cheapest price. Some had brought their belongings to exchange them with products and others were swinging their pouches, filled with coins.

“Thank you, Agnarr. Alva asked me to lend a hand here, if it was needed.”

Agnarr furrowed his eyebrows. “Ah, that girl! Always scolding me, she does! Criticizes every single thing I do and complains all the time. Run the farm yourself then, I tell her and that does silence her till the next tantrum. Daughters!”, the man gave a hearty laugh, “If the next one is a girl, I do not know what will become of me!”

“Ann is pregnant?”

“Of course she is, my dear girl!”, the laughing man patted his round stomach, as he shook with mirth, “I am an ever-busy man, Haldis, and that is something I can at least be proud of!”

Haldis could tell he was joking but she blushed nevertheless. He really did have many children! Children of all ages ran freely around the farm every day, playing and laughing, and quite frankly, Haldis had lost count of them.

“Now, why did you come here, again?”, Agnarr enquired abstractedly, while assisting an impatient costumer.

“To help”, Haldis answered, “For free of course”, she added swiftly, remembering Alva’s words about the family’s unseen problems.

“I have all the help I need, dear girl”, Agnarr jerked his head towards the boy that worked next to him, “I have my sons and daughters with me. Family, Haldis, is everything. Remember that. Not like that, you fool!”, he shouted to his young son, who was wrapping a block of cheese with a cloth. “You are supposed to wrap it carefully, not like a bloody brute! We want to sell it, not throw it away!”

Haldis giggled at the fretting man and his equally fussing son. It was a funny scene, but then again, Agnarr was a funny man himself. His mind’s ability to jump from one topic of conversation to the next was hilarious.

“There, you ass, now it’s well-wrapped. So what were you saying, Haldis?”, Agnarr shifted his attention back to her. “About butter, I reckon. Yes, you see, I was thinking that we could add herbs to the butter along with salt. Thyme, dill, parsley, all can be found in the farm. It is going to make the butter so much tastier! Buttered bread will not be so dull anymore, I tell you!”

“Yes, Agnarr”, Haldis commented duly, “Now, where can I help?”

“Help? Oh, I do not need any help, my girl. You are dismissed!”

“But-”

“- there are no buts! Unless you can make this fool smarter and quicker”, Agnarr glared at his son in a joking manner, “then you can go!”

Haldis, albeit a little baffled, thanked her employer for his generosity. Using a bronze coin she had been given by Ann, she bought a block of cheese, a small loaf of bread and some buttermilk, and headed for the Great Hall. It was a great opportunity to visit Prince Ivar and Saga, to whom she had not talked for quite a while. She should perhaps visit Berit as well. Somehow she missed the old grumpy woman. Maybe it was because she was reminded of her grandmother, though the latter had been anything but grumpy.

“Haldis.”

It was Saga’s voice, though it sounded more tired than Haldis remembered. 

“Saga!”, she exclaimed, as she moved to hug the woman, “It has been a while.”

“It really has”, the redhead returned the embrace, “Where have you been?”

“On a farm. I work there. And you?”

“Here, with Sigurd. I trust you are well?”, Saga’s usually warm voice lacked any enthusiasm. Haldis wondered what could have possibly happened to dishearten her.

“Yes, I am. How has it been here?”

“Oh, you know now. Margrethe has been all over the place. The brothers argue, warrior leaders are called up every day, lots of weapons are being forged. An army is being raised. They want to battle the Saxons, it seems.”

“Yes, I heard. What about you, Saga? You sound careworn…what is troubling you?”

“Oh, it’s nothing”, Saga flicked her wrist dismissively, “I was just heading to the village for a walk, to freshen up. It has really been a hectic week. Tell me about your work at the farm.”

“You know me, Saga. I can feel if one is burdened by something. And you clearly are, my friend. Your voice, your posture gives it away”, Haldis stepped closer to the woman and placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder, “You can tell me.”

“I just…”, Saga’s voice wavered, her bottom lip quivered. “It’s Sigurd”, she murmured before she broke into a soft crying. Haldis slowly led the crying woman to a fallen tree trunk and beckoned her to sit down.

“There, Saga…let it all out, my friend”, she attempted to soothe the sobbing redhead, “Did he do something horrible?”

Saga shook her head. “Oh, Haldis…no. On the contrary, he has become so”, she paused to find the right word, “estranged”, she finally offered in a miserable tone.

“What happened?”

Saga grimaced. Haldis could tell how terribly upset the woman was at that moment. Love…what a troublesome feeling it is.

“When he said he would marry me, I supposed he would do so not long after Ubbe wedded Margrethe. And at the beginning, it really did seem we would marry soon. He spoke of weddings, of his parents and much more. But then…”, a sob escaped her and she stopped to sweep her nose with the edge of her sleeve.

“Yes?”, Haldis prompted her. She wished, whatever the problem was, that she could help. 

“Then he said we would have to marry after he returns from the upcoming invasion in England! Did you hear? After the battles! It might take months for him to return!”

“Oh, Saga…”, Haldis muttered, though the news had not surprised her much. She had never believed Sigurd was the right man for her friend from the very beginning.

“I just do not understand why he has postponed the wedding”, Saga spoke again, the pain ever so present in her voice, “He says we cannot marry now that he will leave for battle soon. I thought it should be the opposite; if he is to leave, then why not get married as soon as possible? And he had been so excited at first, he kept telling me how much he loved me, how he could not wait to make me his wife. And now we barely see each other anymore. Sometimes he becomes so distant, so cold, so lost in his thoughts, my caresses and attention are not enough to…warm him. He is suffering, Haldis, and I don’t know why. And he won’t tell me. He won’t marry me. Next thing you know he will be dying in a battle against these horrible Saxons. I will never get to see him again…”, Saga’s voice broke and she began sobbing again.

Now that was a surprise. 

“Why on earth would Prince Sigurd be suffering?”, Haldis asked, genuinely puzzled.

“Do not say that!”, Saga snapped at her angrily, “He is human, Haldis, like all of us! Your crippled prince is not the only one who has burdens!”, her tone was oddly scornful.

“Don’t be angry, Saga, I was simply asking-“

“-I know. I know you mean well. You want me to be happy but I also know you hate him. You shouldn’t, Haldis. You must stop clinging to that sentiment with such a childish passion. And in actual fact, you should be thanking him. Without Sigurd, you would not have been noticed and bought by his crippled brother. And if not for that, you would not be free now. Yes, you should be more than thankful.”

“Saga, I know…”, Haldis tried to speak but was interrupted by the red-haired woman once again.

“No, you don’t. And you know what? I don’t need your cold advice. I will sort out my problems myself. After all, you know nothing about love.”

And with that she stormed off, her feet thumping on the stone path. Haldis did not chase after her, too bewildered to do so.

Birds were chirping, crickets were singing in symphony, not a slightest gust of wind was blowing. It was a warm day, almost too warm. Haldis sighed in annoyance.

She had to admit she did bear a stubborn grudge against Prince Sigurd for that distant autumn day. Had it not been for Queen Lagertha’s intervention, who knew what would have become of her? The fact that it happened to result in her being bought and, in extension, being freed did not amend for the awful way he had treated her. And the hateful words she had heard him spit to Prince Ivar were still echoing in her mind. How could she possibly believe that he truly was a kind man? No, she needed solid proof to believe it and Saga was simply too lovesick to provide her with that. But, in fact, she could not care less about Prince Sigurd. They had not spoken ever since that fateful day…and Haldis intended to keep it that way.

Even though Saga had simply spoken impulsively in her anger, there was some truth in her words.

Haldis really did not know anything about love. Nothing at all. So perhaps she had better keep her mouth shut. Besides, Saga’s affairs should not be her concern.

Haldis got up, determined to carry on with her day. She reached the Great Hall and was surprised to find it even more crowded than the market. Saga had been right; countless warriors and shield-maidens swarmed into the building and the noise they caused was deafening; chatter, cheers, shouts, sounds of quarrels dominated the air.

Soon it would be wartime. 

There was an incoherent sound, a small gasp, and someone fell over Haldis.

“Hey, watch where- Haldis!”, a young surprised voice sounded and the weight of a body was lifted off Haldis.

“Dagny! Are you alright?”

“Yes, though one can barely move here with all these fuckers here”, Dagny pointed at a group of loud warriors who were drinking mead and wrestling boisterously.

“How are you?”, Haldis asked warmly. She did like Dagny; she was a bright cheerful girl full of life.

“How do you want me to be? Well?”, Dagny’s voice was nuanced by annoyance. “I am not the one who has been freed.”

Oh. Poor Dagny. How much was the young slave girl wishing she were in Haldis’s place?

“I am sorry”, Haldis mumbled apologetically, though she was not sure what she was actually sorry for. For being happy? For being reminded that sadness prevailed over happiness in this world? Probably.

“Don’t be. I will soon be free too”, Dagny answered stiffly, “And I will do it by myself. War is coming. I will find someone to train me as a shield-maiden and then I will never be a slave again.”

Haldis stammered, slightly taken aback. “Would you like some gamalost?”, she asked the taller girl, as she searched inside her straw basket.

Gamalost was one of the most common cheeses, the one that every Viking- regardless being rich or poor- ate. Dagny accepted the offering but said nothing.

The atmosphere was tense. Dagny murmured an incoherent excuse and rushed away, most likely returning to her duties. Haldis frowned. As much as she could account for Dagny’s rudeness- her desperate desire for freedom had made her resentful- her scornful comment about ‘doing it herself’ had insulted her. Dagny had clearly implied Haldis had used her body to earn her freedom. She had heard the resentment drip in the young woman’s voice. No one could believe that a prince would simply free a slave because he viewed her as a person. A real person. Everyone just assumed he had been seduced.

But then what of it? Why should Haldis pay any attention to what people thought of her? 

No, that was not the right way of thinking anymore. She was a slave no more, she was trying to shape a new life for herself. People had to think well of her, to like her, so she could be accepted into their community. If they looked down on her, then she would be an outcast again. She did not want to be an outcast…not again. Not ever again.

That was why she hid her inability in the first place. To protect herself. So she would not be frowned upon, laughed at. Enslaved by the world’s resentment and bitterness, on the fringes of society. No. That was not the life she desired.

Well. Her first two encounters were not very pleasant. But the day had not ended yet; the sun was still shining, the world, life still went on. And so she would. So she would.

She went on to find Prince Ivar, wondering where he could be at that time of day. 

How silly of her to ask such a question! She had served him for enough time to have memorized his daily routine by now. He should be in his room, polishing his weapons. His axe. His bitter axe that shall shed blood soon.

Haldis shuddered with apprehension. She should not think of war- not now. She would have plenty of time to worry about it in the future.

She made her way to Prince Ivar’s room, ignoring the snobbish glance a passing Margrethe sent in her way.

She knocked on the wooden door, her heart fluttering in her chest. By now she had grown accustomed to the acceleration of her heart’s beating every time she was near him. It had become a confounding yet simultaneously oddly pleasant habit…

“Not now, Sigurd!”, his voice echoed roughly from inside, “I am fucking busy doing your work!”

“It’s me”, Haldis was aware of how small her voice sounded in contrast with his, “Haldis. Can I come in?”

The resonant sound of a metal against metal came to an abrupt stop. Haldis heard the sound of chairs being pushed aside, something being dragged against the floor, and the clinging of metal. He surely had been busy, alright.

The door opened and Prince Ivar appeared before her, panting a bit.

“Haldis! What brings you here?”

Haldis tilted her head in surprise. “I thought I should come. Is it not a good time? Perhaps I can come later”, she made a move to turn away.

“No! No!”, he got hold of the ends of her skirt to stop her from leaving. “You did well to come here. I needed a break from sorting out all these swords and knives”, he smiled, “Would you like to go down to the village with me? There is someone I want you to meet.”

Haldis’s stomach fluttered strangely; she could sense his smile radiate a kindness uncharacteristic of him. 

“M-meet who?”, she stammered in a sudden rush of embarrassment.

“You’ll see”, he answered, but immediately realized his mistake, “I mean you’ll know soon.”

They exited the Great Hall, hastily passing by the noisy swarms of warriors. As they walked towards the village Haldis told him of her new job as a milkmaid and he, in turn, informed her of the progress of his and his brothers’ plans. A great army was being raised, since many warrior leaders from the north had answered their calls.

“They come to fight more out of spite for the Saxons than respect towards father”, Prince Ivar pointed out, referring to all the warrior leaders who had joined the army, “But it is all the same to us, as long as they are willing to kill those damned Christians", he spat the last word.

Upon reaching a block of huts, Prince Ivar instructed her to wait at the threshold of one as he entered it.

“Floki, Helga”, she heard him greet the occupants of the hut, as the door was left slightly ajar. A conversation ensued between the prince and who Haldis presumed was Helga, about a young slave girl who the latter insisted she had adopted. At some point the young girl began to squeal in terror and then the hut was silent again.

Who were these people? And why had Prince Ivar brought her to meet them?

“It’s very sweet of you to drag your crippled arse all the way over here to see me”, a low, whisper-like voice was heard from inside the hut.

“Why do you think I would want anything from you, you spindly-legged, knock-kneed boat-builder?”, prince Ivar responded, his tone serious, almost insulting.

The owner of the other voice, a man, snorted. “It’s nice to see how much you matured since I have been away.”

“Matured? Well, you think I want to be an old fool like you?”

“The way you behave, dear Ivar, you will never get the chance.”

Silence again. Haldis held her breath for the entirety of the conversation between the two men. Were they enemies, rivals? A million other questions flooded her mind.

And then they burst into laughter.

Haldis sat waiting outside, utterly confused by their interaction, as she listened to them embrace and laugh.

“I have someone I want you to meet, Floki”, she heard Prince Ivar say.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yes. She is blessed by the gods, as you’ll see for yourself.”

“A woman?”, the other man let out a weirdly high-pitched chuckle, “It was about time, you crippled bastard!”

“Haldis, you can come in now”, Prince Ivar called to her. She pushed the door and entered the hut, as the smell of recently-cooked stew struck her nose.

“This, Floki”, Prince Ivar spoke again, “is Haldis. My…friend.”

Haldis came to stand uneasily in front of a tall man, whose eyes she could feel fixed on her. 

“Hello”, she said awkwardly, “It is a pleasure to meet you”, she went on shyly, unsure if she should have talked in the first place.

The tall man did not answer as he circled around her, inspecting her, his beady eyes still fixed on her. “So this is the kind of woman Ivar likes”, he tittered as he brought his face close to hers. “Haldis. The goddess of stones.”

Haldis felt the heat of the hut stick in her body; she was sweating profusely. 

“Where did you meet?”, the man named Floki asked Prince Ivar.

“She was a slave. I freed her.”

“A slave woman, then? Good choice! I taught you well, dear Ivar!”, Foki laughed gleefully.

“No, you old fool, she is not my woman! She is my friend. And my link with the gods.”

“Your link with the gods? How so?”, Floki enquired, as he took hold of a falling strand of Haldis’s braided hair and curled it round his finger.

“This woman, Floki, has been deprived of the gift of sight. But she sees, dear Floki, she sees thanks to the gods. The gods are her eyes.”

“No, it’s not that!”, Haldis protested, “I have said again and again that I have nothing to do with the gods!”

Floki turned to face her. “No”, he said seriously, “You do. Everyone does. Everything has to do with the gods.”

“Yes, Haldis, listen to old Floki. He is the one that taught me the ways of our gods. He knows.”

“I-”, Haldis stammered and failed to find the words. She sighed. “I don’t say such things to disrespect neither the gods nor their ways. But I am not a seeress. They do not speak to me, as Prince Ivar thinks they do.”

Floki grinned. “They do, Haldis. The mighty gods have a million different ways to speak to each and every single one of us”, he raised his finger to point at her chest, where her heart is. “It is up to us to choose whether we will listen to them or not. Have you chosen to listen to them, Haldis? Or do you simply ignore them? People often do that.”

“No, no. I listen to them”, Haldis confessed tiredly, as the exhaustion of the whole week suddenly accumulated in her limbs. Did she really listen to the gods though? She doubted it.

“Right”, Prince Ivar clasped his hands together, “I have come to ask something of you, Floki. But first I will see Haldis out.”

He touched her leg lightly so as to indicate she could go outside. He followed her out of the hut.

“Floki is an old fool but he is a good man. He was my father’s closest friend. I hope he did not scare you”, he whispered. She had to bend down to hear him clearly over the bustle and the commotion emanating from the nearby huts.

“Oh, no. He seems like a very interesting man.”

“He is. Now go, you seem tired.” Their faces were so close she could feel his warm breath on her face.

“Yes, thank you.”

“You do know your way around, don’t you?”, there was a genuine concern in his voice.

“I do.” 

His question had reminded her of Keipr and his offer. She had not mentioned any of it to Prince Ivar, of course. The solitary prince would probably be the last person earth able to advise her on the matters of…love. 

“Goodbye, Haldis. Take care”, his voice- soft- shook her from her thoughts.

“Goodbye, Prince Ivar”, she returned the farewell as softly as him.

“Haldis!”, he called to her as she was about to leave. “You can call me Ivar.”

A dizziness took over her whole biology ever so suddenly. “Goodbye, Ivar.”

And then she walked away.

She did not know what to feel. He was almost a changed man.

Presenting her as a friend? Talking so very kindly- almost gently- to her? Being concerned and interested of her whereabouts? Allowing her to call him simply by his name?

Oh the world was coming to an end, she was sure.

She needed a distraction, or she would go mad. His voice, his touch, his breath, presided over her mind and her body.

Berit. She should go and visit her at her hut. It was for her that she had bought the contents of the basket in the first place.

Fortunately, she could still remember the way to get to the old woman’s house. She passed through the blooming garden, dominated by the sweet inebriating smell flowers which had become more prominent due to the heat, and knocked on the door.

“I don’t have any money!”, Berit opened the door with terrifying force and speed. “Go aw- Haldis?”, she gasped, “I thought it was a beggar. What are you doing here?”, she asked with her usual displeased tone.

“I noticed you have not come in the market this past week, so I thought I should bring you some supplies", she extended her hands to offer the straw basket, only to realize they were empty. “Oh for the love of Odin!”, she cried out, “I left it at Floki’s hut!”

Haldis’s cheeks burnt in embarrassment. “I am sorry, Berit, I made a mistake. I did not want to bother you”, she confessed sadly, bitter disappointment overwhelming her.

“It’s alright, child”, Berit’s tone was so tender it rendered Haldis speechless. “You meant well. And you did not bother me at all. The truth is”, Berit took a deep breath, took hold of Haldis’s hand and squeezed it, “The truth is I have missed you, child. You and your dreams. And your kindness. All these days I contemplated looking for you and asking you a question, but doubt and fear made me hesitate. But now that you have come here by yourself- as fate has determined- I am sure. Would you like to stay here with me? Permanently. I cannot pay you, but you will have a safe roof under your head, clothes and food. A home. What do you say? Would you endure my miserable company for all these?”

Everything happens for a reason, Haldis’s grandmother always said. But it’s not up to us to find the reason, she would add. It is not up us to meddle with nature and its ways. With fate and its ways.

And right now, as she was standing next to the tearful and old, but kind- yes, kind- woman, Haldis thought of how proud her grandmother would be right now.

“Yes, I would, I will. Thank you.”

Yes, she would be so very proud. And happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The starting conversation between Ivar and Floki is the one from the show.


	15. The special and the strong

It all boils down to how much you fight for the things you want, Alva said to Haldis once.

They were talking about the state of the farm again, the late afternoon sun burning above them, the grass crisping under the heat and their boots. The cows were walking around sedately, the other animals were sleeping in the relieving shade provided by the barn and the trees, and a lonely silence prevailed.

And she was right. In many respects, Alva was right. The responsibility of seeing beyond the impulsive actions of her father was weighing the woman down so much she had confided in Haldis once again.

When Alva had first voiced her worries, Haldis had had the impression she was simply overreacting, but now she could feel how much more serious and reasonable they were. Later that day, as she walked to the market to buy the ingredients for hers and Berit’s evening meal, she felt an apprehensive chill of worry wash her over and thought how utterly fortunate- lucky even- she was to have been rescued from a lifetime of misery and desperation.

Even though that had become a well-worn thought in her mind ever since she had been freed, Haldis came to realise how little she had truly appreciated that unexpected twist of fate. She had been grateful, yes, but she had not truly realised how unbelievably privileged she was to have been chosen, from all people, from all those who suffer, to be saved. For a moment, she felt so special, so warmly special…almost favoured by the gods. Loved even… by fate itself.

Fate, fate, fate. What a trickster, a true jester in disguise. A god in disguise, perhaps.

With a hand suspended over a patch of cabbages, the events of the past few days flashed before her in a noisy whirlwind. Haldis felt as though the days had come and go so swiftly, with so little time for her to sit down and reflect on them. But that is life; so full and hectic but so short. It is upon us to catch up to its frightful speed.

Finally choosing a small round cabbage- its hardness indicating its freshness- and paying for it, Haldis moved on to the next stall to purchase some beans. Berit really liked beans. She had not said it, but Haldis had easily sensed her satisfaction when she had cooked a bean soup two days ago. And Haldis wanted to please her- to make her feel appreciated and cared for. She wanted to prove to her that for every bad apple, there were a million good ones. There was kindness in this world. Truly.

The cranky old woman had so surprised her when she had asked her to live with her. And not only that, she had even admitted to missing her…what a shocking revelation! Haldis had assumed Berit earnestly disliked her, but now, she found the woman ever so slowly warming up to her.

She had given her a place to call home and that mattered to Haldis so very much. And even though Berit was not the most cheerful of people, Haldis did enjoy her company in a way. Every night, after finishing their meal, they would both sit in front of the crackling fire, their thoughts flying away in distant realms, a warm comforting silence filling the room. They rarely talked in these moments, but it became their own silent ritual of mutual respect and appreciation. A way to express their acceptance of each other, a form of friendship. And the ever-present, ever-burning fire with its hypnotizing flames would always accompany them.

As soon as she stepped foot on the hut, not as a guest this time, Haldis had pledged to do her best to bring back the spark of life it was clearly missing. She spent a whole day cleaning it and imprinting its every room and item in her memory, all while enlisting the help of the willing and flirtatious Keipr, who gladly carried out her every request. He replaced the overly-filthy thatch roof, as well as a lot of wooden planks that were on the verge of being eaten by greedy ants, rebuilt the hut’s crumbling chimney, and uprooted the wild moss that had expanded on the walls.

_As he was getting rid of the rotting wood and thatch, Haldis offered him some bread and apples, which he accepted happily. They sat down under a tree to hide from the sun, a refreshing breeze cooling their sweating faces, and began conversing animatedly._

_“Thank you for coming here to help, Keipr, I really do not know what I would do without you”, Haldis admitted, while biting on a sweet crisp apple._

_“Don’t mention it!”, the man gave her a generous smile, “That is what I do, helping damsels in distress”, he added mischievously, sending her a wink._

_Despite not finding his comment flattering at all, Haldis felt her cheeks colour._

_“I am not a damsel in distress”, she murmured weakly, thinking that Prince Ivar would never say such a thing to her, “In need of help, yes, but not a damsel in distress. I can fend for myself just perfectly.”_

_“I am sure you do”, Keipr grabbed the last piece of bread from the cloth Haldis had laid on the blooming grass, “But you are a damsel. And a very pretty one, I must say.”_

_“Oh, you do not mean it, surely!”, Haldis sat up abruptly, the turn of the conversation making her more flustered by every second._

_“Haldis!”, the young man followed suit and hurried to stand close to her, “I do mean it! You are very beautiful! And so kind... I would be very happy to take you out on the village later today. Will you come?”_

_Flashes of nervousness and embarrassment ran through Haldis’s body, rendering her speechless for a few moments._

_“I…cannot. Please get back to work”, she finally muttered lamely._

_“But why can’t you? You don’t have a man, do you? You only came to Kattegat two or three weeks ago!”_

_“No, I don’t have a man. Keipr, I just cannot come…”, she whispered this time, confused desperation taking hold. She did not why she was denying the man’s offer. She had no man and her affections were not taken…A million feelings overtook her at once, memories of a smooth voice, a comforting breath close to her face, and a lovely thawing heart._

_“Then why?”, Keipr’s voice rang distant in her baffled and flustered mind, “Haldis…you are shy, is that it?”_

_“No…”_

_Yes. She was as shy as she had ever been. No man had ever pleaded for her attention or courted her. Why was Keipr so keen on her? She was just an ugly blind girl, a former slave, a nobody. Nobody at all. And a liar too._

_She made her way towards the house with big hurried steps and a trembling heart. Keipr quickly came to stand in front of her, blocking her path._

_“Oh how sweet you are, Haldis, how sweet”, he reached for her hand and Haldis had no time to react, “How innocent you are”, he spoke again, his thumb caressing her motionless, captured hand._

_“I am not innocent”, Haldis frowned and withdrew her hand from his grasp, “I know exactly what you want from me. But I cannot give it to you. You see…I am not what you think I am”, she attempted to provide an explanation, fighting to keep her voice steady and calm._

_“These are just excuses, Haldis, and you know it. Please let me take you to the village tonight. We will have fun, I promise.”_

_“Keipr, I am not the right woman for you and that is final. I am not making excuses. I know what I am talking about”, Haldis countered, unable to hide the irritation that had begun to bubble in her voice._

_“But you are, Haldis”, the man insisted passionately, “Can’t you see I want you?”_

_“No, I can’t see!”, the anger rose and tainted her voice, finally showing itself, “What do you see in me anyway? There are plenty of girls in the village who would love to be with you! I have my work and my friends to keep me busy and happy. Thank you for your offering a helping hand, but it is time you left. I will not tolerate any more of your advances”, she declared firmly, as she reentered the house, prepared to slam the door on his face- just like Berit did to beggars._

_“No, wait, I should fix the door first”, Keipr managed to blurt out, but the door had already been closed and barred._

_Haldis heard his slow, heavy steps as he begun to walk away. She held her breath, aware of how rude she had been and how illogical she had sounded. But still, what else was she to do? She had no time for romance…nor the guts to bear its weight. No matter how much she craved for it- deep down._

_She listened as he halted abruptly, sensing his confusion and hesitation. He stayed there for some time, clearly contemplating something, until he spoke, his voice a wisp of breath._

_“There is a man, isn’t there? I am sure there is, even if you deny it. No girl has ever refused me, Haldis, not even when there is a man. But you are a faithful little girl, aren’t you?”_

_And with that he ran away._

_She had stayed frozen afterwards, leaning on the door and reflecting on the ridiculously dramatic scene that had played out. Her stomach twisted and turned and sweat coated her body, as she tried to justify her own actions and words. Why had she really refused the young man? It was not that she did not like him; he was friendly and sounded attractive...but the very thought of romance and love made her want run and hide out of plain sight until everyone forgot about her and her antics._

_And how on earth did Keipr find her attractive? She was not pretty, no, ever Prince Hvitserk himself had joked about her appearance._

_And Keipr did not know of her secret. Of her gift. Of her darkness. Of her blindness._

_And how could a blind girl love? How could she give a man what he would undoubtedly demand and want? She couldn’t. Just as she had said to Keipr, she just was not the right woman._

_She sighed. Prince Ivar who have never pressed her in such a way. He never ordered her to his bed, when he clearly could have. Well…he might be impotent, but he could have certainly taken advantage of her. He was a prince. He could have everything he asked for. And still, he hadn’t touched her. He had never even spoke of such matters. He was a special man. So very special._

Haldis, now having acquired everything she needed to cook Berit’s favourite soup, walked back to the hut, her head still whirling to the recent past.

She had only encountered Keipr only once after his confession, and she still cringed at how awkward their small exchange had been. He had sulked throughout its entirety and she had been struggling not to express her irritation and confused guilt. The scene of his confession kept being and being replayed in her mind, as she struggled to account for her choices, as well as the man’s words. So much did the event take up her thoughts that even Berit had noticed something had been troubling her.

_“It is curious how one can be stuck in the past”, the old woman mused one night, as they had been sitting in front of the fire. It had been an exceptionally chilly day, overrun by cold breezes and occasional drizzles, so the old woman had added more wood into the fire to make it stronger. The well-nurtured fire illuminated and danced, gifting them with its hospitable warmth. And Berit, her emotions ever entwined with the scorching flames, had been equally as cordial that night._

_Haldis had raised her head in surprise, taken aback by both the woman’s words and tone._

_“Yes”, she had answered absentmindedly, “it is.”_

_“Tell me then what is on your mind. I might be able to help you solve the mystery.”_

_“No, I-”_

_“Don’t bother denying it, child. Your mind is stuck on a problem you just cannot solve. Talk about it. It’s no good keeping it secret.”_

_And even though Haldis had barely managed to hide her shock, caused by Berit’s sudden interest in her problems, she had told her everything. Everything that had been troubling her flew out of her in a long monologue, which Berit’s unusually willing ears endured with great patience. And, as she talked, Haldis could not help but be reminded of the nights she had spent with her own grandmother; nights of laughter, stories, and singing. Very few things had troubled her then. Now, it seemed as though she was carrying the whole world on her small shoulders._

_“I see”, Berit pursed her lips together, after Haldis had finished her explanation and had plunged into a breathless silence. “I will ask you some questions, child, and I want you to answer truthfully.”_

_“Alright.”_

_Haldis could sense a strange darkness paint Berit’s lined features, but brushed it off._

_“How do you find this young man- Keipr? Do you think his feelings for you are honest?”, Berit inquired in a slow voice._

_“I am not sure”, Haldis answered after a considerable pause, “They might be. There is no reason for him to lie- at least not as far as I am aware of.”_

_“And do you believe, provided his feelings are truly sincere, that he is serious about pursuing you? That he wants to marry you, that is.”_

_At this Haldis burst into giggles. “Goodness, no! He hardly knows me. I think we both know what he is after”, Haldis could not suppress an ironic smile, “And even if he wished to marry me, I doubt his parents would agree to the match. I have no dowry; I would be just another mouth for them to feed. And they have enough of those already”, she added hastily, her thoughts briefly running back to Alva._

_“Then I don’t see any reason to doubt your decision. You should have definitely refused him. There”, Berit made a vague gesture of relief with her hand, “Problem solved. There was absolutely no point in feeling guilty about it.”_

_“It’s not that…”, Haldis gave a small sigh._

_“What is it, then?”_

_“I wasn’t thinking of all that, when I refused him”, Haldis murmured numbly, her heart beginning to pound loudly in her chest, as she slowly came to realise why she had truly declined Keipr’s advances. “I thought…”, her breath hitched in her throat, “…I could not accept because I thought of…I thought of…”_

_“You thought of who?”, Berit raised a quizzical eyebrow._

_“Prince Ivar”, Haldis admitted, bringing her hands to her burning face._

_“Don’t be ridiculous.”_

_The sudden harshness in Berit’s voice made Haldis jump._

_“What do you mean?”, she enquired, startled._

_“Don’t tell me you are in love with him- the prince! Are you out of your mind, child?”, Berit spat with a sudden strange anger. Haldis shivered for an unknown reason and the wails of a woman screaming for her baby rang in her ears for a split second. She immediately shook this ghastly dream-like feeling away and focused her attention back on the conversation._

_“I am not… in love with him”, she gulped, recognizing how unconvincing she sounded, “I just thought of him at that moment. He has been really good to me, you see.”_

_Berit’s eyes widened so much, Haldis feared they would jump off their sockets and attack her then and there._

_“The fact that he has shown some solidarity and kindness does not mean anything! Anything at all!”, Berit was almost screaming at this point, “You must stay away from him- from any man, for that matter!”_

_“Oh, Berit, I beg you to calm down! What has gotten into you?”, Haldis cried, genuinely afraid of the woman at that moment._

_Berit, as though she had not heard a word of what Haldis had just asked, reached out her hands and gripped Haldis shoulders. For a woman of her age, her strength was astonishing; her grip felt like iron. Firm and pressing. Frenetic._

_“Promise me, Haldis”, Berit spoke, her voice ringing peculiarly eerie, “Promise me you will never give yourself to a man. Never wield to them- never! If you do, that shall be your downfall.”_

_And with that, before Haldis could reply- or even react-, Berit released her and withdrew back on her seat. As always, she turned to face the fire, her features hardened with remembrance. She began muttering to herself frantically, as her hands clasped the upper part of her belly again and again. For a few minutes, she seemed entirely immersed in her own world, a painful trance, surrounded by ghosts and thick darkness._

_Never had Haldis ever felt so moved by a sight. Something, she could not pinpoint what exactly- a gut feeling, perhaps- told her that Berit was haunted by a deeply-buried pain that she could not forget, no matter how much she tried to. And how could she? The past is an integral part of each and every one of us. It makes us who we are._

_But what could be the source of Berit’s perpetual distress? Haldis frowned as she remembered the rumours Dagny had mentioned; that Berit was infertile. Was that the cause of her infamous bitterness? She could not bring herself to ask._

_Haldis got up and headed to the kitchen, where she poured a cup of milk for Berit. The old woman was still fixed in her tense daze by the fire. Sighing, Haldis went back to the fireplace room and came to stand beside the woman, who, despite the weather not being cold, was shivering uncontrollably._

_“Here, Berit”, Haldis started softly, extending the cup towards the latter’s direction, “I brought you some milk to make you feel better.”_

_Without answering, Berit seized the cup and drained it all in an instant. She immediately asked for another one and once she had drank that too, she finally seemed to have recovered from her momentary breakdown. Her shoulders had dropped and she was not staring at the fire any longer; her eyes had lowered on the ground in obvious shame._

_“I am sorry you had to witness this, Haldis”, she spoke at last, her voice hoarse and distant, “I did not mean for it to happen.”_

_“It’s alright, Berit, really”, Haldis reassured her kindly. “Does this happen often?”, she questioned after a small pause of hesitation._

_“No- I mean- yes, sometimes it does. When I remember.”_

_Haldis nodded in understanding. “I know. I apologise if it was something I said that saddened you.”_

_When no answer came, Haldis decided to continue. “If that makes you feel better, I promise I shall not give myself to anyone. Not that I ever intended to in the first place.”_

_Berit nodded, but Haldis was unsure whether the woman had really processed what she had heard._

_“I think it’s time we both went to sleep”, Berit’s voice interrupted the uncomfortable silence, “You have work tomorrow, haven’t you?”_

_“Yes, I do”, Haldis stood up again and slowly walked to the door, her thoughts racing. Once she made it to the threshold, she turned her face towards Berit._

_“Berit.”_

_“Yes?”_

_Haldis bit her lip. “Have you ever considered talking to someone about it? It might help you forget.”_

_There was silence again. And then a low, keening-like laughing pierced it. The wolves outside in the forest howled in anguish and the owls were singing their wise words in perfect symphony._

_“My child, there is no such thing as forgettance. No one forgets the marks of the past.”_

Haldis dried her hands on the discarded apron next to her and sat on top of the wooden table, a disturbed frown etched on her soft features. The contents of the cooking pot- the bean soup- were bubbling angrily, and the wind rapped persistently at the door and roof of the small hut.

Haldis’s small venture to the past few days was over now. And as much as she tried not to, she could not help but be concerned about Berit. Ever since the incident, Haldis was constantly haunted by the strange and disturbing thought of crying mothers and squalling babies. The problem was, what had these thoughts to do with Berit? She could not fathom.

Haldis breathed a troubled sigh and got up to check on the bean soup. There was no point in torturing herself with mere speculation. If Berit ever wished to confide in her- which Haldis doubted she would ever do- she would gladly lend an ear and a helping hand to the burdened woman. But not now. Not now. She had enough problems on her own.

The next day Haldis walked up to the farm, feeling oddly apprehensive. Her heart felt as heavy as stone and her head was bursting with the cloudy fog of foreboding. As soon as she reached the barn, however, the sound of jolly laughter rose from the distance, and she found herself smiling. She was pretty certain it was some of Agnarr and Ann’s children and the very thought children playing, innocent and carefree, cheered her up. At least there were people in this world who were immune to sadness.

Thanks to the ubiquitous presence of children and young people, the farm was a happy place, full of bright smiles and sunny greetings. And that was enough to make one’s day.

“Ah, Haldis! You came just in time!”, Ann’s soft voice greeted Haldis cheerily, while the latter was approaching.

“In time for what?”, Haldis returned the woman’s welcoming smile.

Ann smiled apologetically. “You see, I want to ask you a favour. Agnarr and I have some very important errands to run today and I am late; I was supposed to be in our meeting place already”, the blond woman sighed and rubbed her temples, “The thing is I need someone to look after Svein, Helga, and Aage while I am away and none of their older siblings are to be found!”

Haldis gave an understanding nod. “Of course I can keep them company, while you are away, if that is what you are asking.”

“Yes! Oh, thank you, you are such a dear!”, Ann breathed in obvious relief and patted her belly contentedly. “Now, children!”, she then called to three small kids who were chasing each other in the distance, “Come and meet your new friend!”

As they waited for the sun-kissed, barefooted children to come, Haldis suddenly felt the gravity of her task dawn on her.

“May I ask for how long you will be off?”, she questioned the beaming mother, struggling to hide her increasing anxiety.

“Oh, we are off to pay the land taxes and visit some merchants at the northern part of the village. I suppose we will be gone for most of the day, you know how crowded the routes are these days. We shall take the carriage, but one of our horses is lame, so I guess we will stop at the horse market to trade it for a healthy one. And I strongly suspect Alva wants to come along; last night she kept saying how-“

“Mummy? Who is that?”

A childish, high-pitched voice interrupted Ann, and Haldis jumped at its sound, realizing that it had been years since she had entertained and taken care of little children.

“Svein, Helga, Aage, this is Haldis. She will be keeping you company while your father and I are away, alright?”

Haldis could feel three pairs of wide, questioning eyes fixed on her.

“Hello, there”, she murmured awkwardly. The children, prompted by their mother, returned the greeting equally as shyly.

“Right”, Ann said, clasping her hands, “I trust you will all behave well and won’t give dear Haldis a hard time. Understood?”

She proceeded to envelop her muddled children in a fleeting embrace, thanked Haldis once more for offering her services, and hurried away.

A confused silence ensued and was swiftly broken by the smallest boy, who burst into inconsolable tears.

“Big eyes! They scare me! I want mummy!”, he squealed. “Mummy!”

“Oh, please don’t cry!”, Haldis kneeled down and sheepishly patted the boy’s back, while his two siblings watched in a stunned quietness.

“Y-your mummy will be back soon. And she would hate to see you sad”, Haldis stammered, feeling completely incompetent to deal with anything that had to do with children.

Her stammer caused one of the other children, a little girl, to titter. Soon enough, Haldis was surrounded by three laughing children, tears and mothers long forgotten.

Once their laughter had died down, Haldis breathed a sigh of relief and spoke.

“Now, what would you like to do, little ones?”

Hours later, after having been dragged about from place to place and shown the children’s favourite spots in the vast farmland, Haldis sat down with them on the grass and listened to them fuss over the fruit they had all picked from the trees of the land.

“Red apples!”, exclaimed Helga, a vivid girl of around seven or eight summers. “They are my favourite!”, she explained, taking a generous bite of the round, glossy fruit.

“Red”, Haldis repeated to herself, realizing she had mistaken them for being green. A few paces away, Svein, the little boy who had cried, and Aage were digging holes on the hardened soil.

“Haldis!”, Aage called, “May we go over to the stream and play?”, he asked, referring to a small river they had passed on their way to the other side of the land.

“It’s a bit far”, Haldis answered doubtfully, but upon hearing the boys begin to whine and being too tired to argue, she reluctantly agreed.

Helga, clearly having inherited her father’s chatty personality, began rambling on about her animal friends. The land was empty of other people, a tree was protecting them from the aggressive rays of the sun and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves and the tall grass. Lulled by the peaceful atmosphere and the constant chatter of the little girl, Haldis fell asleep almost immediately, tiredness taking hold.

She was woken up by an indistinct voice shouting in a far distance. Still dazed from sleep, her awareness half-numbed, Haldis groped next to her to find a sleeping Helga. She gently nudged the girl, who, in turn, sat up and rubbed her bleary eyes.

“Do you hear that?”, Haldis inquired, still unable to fully adjust to the waking reality.

Helga stood up to listen and then, as though thunder had struck her, she gasped.

“Yes! It’s Aage! I think he is calling for help!”

“What?”

“Look! There! It’s him!”, the girl explained and proceeded to wave her hands frantically towards the distance.

A few minutes later, the boy appeared before them. He was panting vigorously, since he had clearly ran all the way back to them.

“What happened?”, Haldis demanded, a strange agonising fear clutching at her heart.

Aage did not answer immediately, he was still struggling to catch his breath.

“Where is Svein?”, Helga asked her brother, sounding equally as fearful as Haldis.

“He fell! We were playing next to the stream and he fell! We were chasing each other around, he stumbled and fell inside!”, the young boy cried between sharp intakes of breath. “I could not go in, I don’t know how to swim!”

Little Helga gave a shocked cry and caught Haldis’s arm, as if to ask for guidance.

But Haldis could not give any guidance. Something had frozen her on the spot, something had completely numbed her body and mind. All she could do was stand there, her mouth gaping, her heart pumping fearfully against her ribcage, trying to break free, to bring her back to life.

For a few seconds no one spoke, no one knew what to do. An adult and two children simply stood in the middle of nowhere and envisaged a little boy drowning at the bottom of a muddy stream, at the sole mercy of the gods.

“What are we going to do?”, Helga’s voice came out as a pathetic sob.

Somehow Haldis found her voice. “Helga, you must go and find help. Aage, lead me to the stream”, she said slowly, fighting to sound calm. But she wasn’t calm. She herself felt as though an iron hand had reached to her neck and was about to stifle her. She couldn’t see, she couldn’t see. She couldn’t hear. She couldn’t help.

As Helga bolted back to the barn, Aage took Haldis by hand and they began to run towards somewhere, the unknown. Towards death, towards the end. Haldis wanted to fall to her knees and scream, the weight of her heart was bringing her down, she could not carry it, she couldn’t. All she could feel was the disgusting feeling of apprehension, a sickening aroma of death, the looming punishment of the gods.

“Here he is! I can see him, he is floating!”, Haldis could barely hear Aage’s scared voice, screaming for his brother, screaming to her for help.

There was nothing in front of her. Nothing. A void. There were no bodies, no children, no water, just the gods laughing down at her, mocking her, pointing at her and ridiculing her.

“You must jump in, Haldis! Please jump in! Save him!”, Aage was sobbing and begging now- or was it Helga?

“I cannot swim…I cannot swim…”, Haldis murmured feebly, “I cannot swim…it’s the gods….this is their punishment…”, she whispered desperately.

Her knees finally gave in, unable to bear the weight of an aching heart, of a guilty soul. The iron hand's grip suffocated her. Darkness reigned. It was all she knew. And always had known.

Something wetting her forehead was all she could feel at first. She soon realised her body was laying on something soft and cozy, possibly a mattress. As her senses slowly crept back into her, she smelled the desperation before she heard it. The air was thick, it smelt of sweat and unwashed hair. Her ears caught the indistinct sound of stifled sobs and muffled whispering. Anxious breathing and shadows all around her.

As her eyes attempted to flutter open, a sharp pain pierced her head and she winced. She slowly brought a hand to her forehead, finding covered by a wet cloth. She clutched it in pain, the ache turning into a deafening sound.

“Haldis?”, a smooth voice broke through the haze in her head, reaching out to her. The voice was soft and becalming and her stomach gave a twirl at its sound. “Hang in there. You are strong.”

“I-Ivar?”, she murmured into the darkness, her voice filled with hope.

There was a pause before an answer came. “Who’s Ivar? Haldis, it’s me.”

And then Haldis was brought back to reality. It all returned. The horror.

“Keipr.”

She acknowledged the man’s presence without opening her eyes. There would be no difference if she had.

“Haldis, open your eyes and look at me”, the man required in a soft tone.

“It doesn’t matter”, Haldis answered, already feeling tears of shame pricking her eyes, “I know it’s you.”

“Please look at me.”

Haldis opened her eyes. But still there was nothing in front of her. A void. A black void. She hated it. She hated it.

Someone changed the wet cloth for a new one, fresher and colder. Haldis shivered.

“How are you feeling?”, Keipr’s voice spoke to her once again.

Haldis refrained from answering. “What happened to Svein? What happened to him? Where is he?”, she asked in small, frightened whispers.

A muffled sob answered her question, but it wasn’t Keipr’s. Haldis realised there were more people gathered around her than she had originally thought.

“So he’s dead?”, Haldis voice cracked pitifully at the last word.

“We are not sure yet”, an adenoidal voice replied, “He is breathing a little, but we can’t wake him up. We have called for the healer.” At the end of the sentence, the woman who had spoken these words broke into a sad crying. Haldis could feel her own tears burning holes on her skin. The fire of shame and guilt burnt.

“I am sorry”, she whimpered pathetically.

“It was not your fault, Haldis.”

“But it was, wasn’t it?”, Haldis squeezed her eyes shut in frustration.

“No, it wasn’t.”

“It was. Don’t be afraid of blaming me, Keipr. I blame myself. There is nowhere to hide now anyway.”

“Why won’t you look at me, Haldis?”, Keipr insisted, “What is it?”

“I don’t know where you are, Keipr. I can’t see you.”

Gasps of surprise and concern echoed throughout the room.

“It’s because she hit her head”, someone remarked, “She has been blinded.”

At this, Haldis smiled wryly, despite herself.

“What’s wrong? Why are you smiling?”, Keipr asked, the worry present in his mellow voice.

There was no reason to lie anymore. Lying motionless at someone else’s house, surrounded by people and being in pain, Haldis knew she could not hide any longer.

“I have not been blinded. I was already blind.”

She waited for the words to sink in, to be understood by the people who watched her intently, stunned into silence. She felt Keipr’s body shift away from her but somehow she didn’t miss his warmth.

“I am blind”, she repeated, “I always have been. I deceived you all.”

…………………

There were times when Ivar thought he was blessed by the gods. That he was truly special, that he had been given a gift- the gift of being able to grow stronger in spite of his nature.

Haldis had taught him that. Dear, lovely Haldis had taught him to appreciate himself and his inability. To embrace the strength that derived from it, not to sit around and mourn it for eternity.

It had been a hard lesson to learn, because he had been humiliated in the process. He had been insulted by a slave, but now he knew it was a special slave. It was Haldis, silver Haldis, moonlit and rose-cheeked.

She had shown him how one can accept their inability, how they can perhaps even come to love it.

He did not love his legs yet, no. But he did not feel weighed down by them anymore. They were an additional weapon, one he could- and would- use to achieve his shining ambitions. To become a living and breathing legend.

Haldis had talked for the gods and they- she- had told him that he was blessed. Gifted. And perhaps, he could one day be one of them too.

Ivar allowed himself a mischievous smile as he crawled towards the haven, where he had first been told off by Haldis. For a long time- for a whole winter- it had been a painful place to be at- an ugly reminder of this failure to dominate, to control a poor, miserable slave.

But now, in the midst of a colourful spring- which, to his great surprise, did not get on his nerves-, he almost loved the place. For it reminded him of his power, a power that no one else possessed- except him.

Haldis had a special power as well. And she did use it every day, he was sure, to save people form their troubles. She had saved him.

He loved the place because it reminded him of her. Long brown hair, large grey eyes, a delicate face with an upturned nose. A small body, a sweet voice, and an elegant, mysterious smile.

Ivar smiled widely as he helped himself at the edge of the wooden planks, the ones that stood above the sea. Unwavering, firm, protective.

He let his feet dangle above the rippling water and for a moment- a tiny flicker of a precious moment- he became a child again. A happy child by the seashore, with his mother a few paces away, singing a merry song and picking seashells.

The moment came and passed in a fraction of second, but Ivar still smiled, feeling more powerful and motivated than ever.

And he knew who to thank.

His beautiful thoughts were cut short by a soft but desperate sobbing making its way to his ears.

He did not have to look to know who it was. In an instant he was by her side, asking what was wrong, who had done this to her, he could kill them if she wished.

But she would not answer, she wouldn’t acknowledge him, she only kept crying and crying, inconsolable and miserable, a scared little bird.

What had happened? Who had done this to her? Who had dared touch her, his Haldis?

He was strong. He could kill them, whoever they were, for their mistake.

“I hate it! I hate it! I loathe it!”, Haldis’s screams penetrated her sobs and the sacred silence of the haven. An angry gust of wind blew, as if to match her voice and her laments, and scattered her long hair about. “I’d rather die!”, she yelled to the wind and the twirling sea, paying no heed to him.

“Than what?”, it was all he could ask.

“Be blind!”, she screeched her answer, as her violent sobs resumed. "It's a curse! A curse!"

And it was at this moment that Ivar’s world came crushing down in front of him. All he had come to believe, all he had grown to accept, withered and crumpled right in front of his eyes. All fell down and vanished- his hopes, his strength, and his faith.

“I killed the boy!”, Haldis went on, “He will die because of me! The gods are punishing me because I lied!”, she cried in utter anguish.

“Oh, I fucking bet they are.”

His tone was so rough, so sharp, so bitter, that Haldis’s sobs came to an abrupt halt. She turned to him, startled and shocked, the tears still decorating her face like the scraps of a mask that had been torn off.

“I am fucking sure they are planning to have you burned. Killed even”, Ivar whispered, but he knew she could hear him all too well. And he wanted her to. “Because you lied. To me.”

“Ivar, I-”

“-You lied”, he could hear the coldness, the harshness of his voice, a blow that he knew would hurt and sting. But he was unable to stop himself. He wanted to make the hidden but existing wound bleed, to make someone else shed tears for his unhappiness, for his anger. For his destroyed dreams. He enjoyed causing pain, he always had. He loved knowing that he was not the only one hurting.

“You are a liar. A liar”, he repeated with emphasis. “And I let you fool me.”

His tone was now bitter, dripping of acid and pumping but constraint anger. He hated her for lying to him, for pretending, for humiliating him back then. He hated the feelings she stirred within him. He hated himself for falling in love with her.

“You fooled me.”

If there was one thing he had learnt from constantly arguing with his brothers, it would be that he was now an expert at finding the right words. The ones that would cause tempests, hurricanes, and pitfalls of sadness. His words were his weapon, his blows were the demise of his enemies.

“I will never forgive you.”

And he always delivered them so well.


	16. Sunshine

There was a low knock at the door.

Haldis, sank in a thin mattress and surrounded by the heavy scent of the room’s thick air, only slightly shifted at its sound. She made no effort to answer when the knock was heard yet again, her head resting limply on her pillow, her mind swimming in a pool of dark emptiness.

The door opened slowly, the creaking sound it produced making Haldis wince in frustration and mild pain. Berit emerged from the outside world and stood on the threshold of the door, her breathing soft and focused. Determined.

“I am off to work”, she announced, tight-lipped.

Haldis did not respond, knowing all too well Berit had not come for the sole purpose of telling her this.

A fly buzzed around the room and the old woman squashed it on the wall with force. She plunged in an inky silence, while the fly dropped on the floor, lifeless.

“You should eat properly. It’s been two weeks”, Berit said at last, possibly gesturing at the bowl of porridge and dried fruit that Haldis had left untouched the night before.

“I have gone for far more with much less food”, Haldis murmured, her voice coated with the hollow tones of abandonment. “I will live”, she added, sounding as if she wished it was the opposite.

“Don’t be daft. You will die before you know it if you keep up like this”, Berit insisted calmly, her manner steady.

“Maybe it’s better this way”, there was a slight tremble in her voice, but it quickly drifted away.

“You don’t know what you are talking about, child. The hunger is getting to your poor head.”

“I do know what I am talking about. And I am not hungry”, Haldis snapped in tired irritation, changing her position so she could have her back on Berit.

“You must eat. Starving yourself to death will not improve the situation.”

“It will rid me of it, though”, Haldis countered, feeling the tears begin to well up in her eyes, a common occurrence in the past two weeks.

“Abandonment is not the answer. You must get up and cope”, Berit persisted, her resolve not breaking with Haldis’s childish irritability.

“Oh, and what would you know about coping, Berit? Have you coped at all? From whatever it is you have been through?”, Haldis’s tone was more acid than she had intended it to be. She bit her lip in self-rebuke, but said nothing to correct herself.

The old woman had yet to back down. “I have not forgotten, that is true. But I have coped. Better than you might think.”

“I am sorry. I never meant-”

“-I know, child. I know. And I understand that you are in pain, that your life has turned upside down, that unsurpassable mountains seem to have arisen in your path. But you must cope, dear child. For living is the only answer.”

While she was talking, her voice placid and sure, Berit had slowly walked up to Haldis and had sat down next to her. Haldis felt the woman’s light weight drop on the mattress, a small but steadfast presence. She blinked her eyes rapidly, in a hasty attempt to shake her burning tears away.

A tactful silence ensued. Haldis felt as though she would choke on the lump which had settled so firmly in her dry throat.

“It will get better”, Berit stated reassuringly, placing a wrinkled hand on Haldis’s forearm.

“It can’t”, Haldis muttered pitifully, before finally bursting into a soft sobbing. “It can’t. All is ruined and I cannot get it back.”

“You could, if you tried.”

“There is no point. They boy must have died-”

“- You don’t know that for sure. I could ask after him, just to be certain.”

“No! Please don’t!”, Haldis covered her ears with her hands, a futile attempt to shield herself from the world. “Please don’t! I do not wish to know.”

“If that is what you wish”, Berit shrugged, “then so be it.”

“It is, it really is. There is no point in going back now. No, there is no point at all. Because he”, Haldis’s chest heaved with her sobs, “he hates me! Oh he hates me!”, she cried, once again succumbing to a desperate sadness.

Berit refrained from replying for a few moments. When she spoke, her voice was becalming in a motherly sort of way.

“You cannot be certain, dear child. Sometimes people choose to hurt others to hide their own pain. It is very easy to cause pain in the name of forgetting”, a wry smile made its way to the old woman’s lips. “It is even easier to blame others for our own hurting.”

Haldis only kept crying, inconsolable, his memory painfully clutching at her heart and soul. “He hates me”, she whimpered pathetically, more to herself than to Berit.

“Is it so important, what he thinks of you?”, Berit enquired in a soft tone.

Haldis, at last deciding to face her, settled her head towards the woman’s direction.

“Yes, it is. I care what he thinks of me, I care horribly. Horribly”, she uttered, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Sounds to me as if it is a lovers’ quarrel”, Berit attempted to joke, which resulted to a new fit of sobbing from Haldis’s side.

“Now, now, child, don’t take it at heart. You must talk to him and settle this matter in person”, she stated sagely, gently patting Haldis’s arm.

“He won’t have me! He will send me away with threats and curses!”, Haldis said with horror. “I wouldn’t be able to bear it.”

“And who is to say that he, in this very moment, does not feel the same way as you do? Is it not possible that he is experiencing regret, fear, and a longing for you?”

“It isn’t. I wish it was, but it isn’t. He cursed at me that day, he spat at me…he was so angry. He said he would never forgive me. And I believe him, oh”, Haldis brought her hands to her face, the very thought of that horrible day making her nauseous. She had been so scared of him. So scared of his wrath, more than she had ever been throughout their entire relationship.

“Do you even know what you did to anger him so?”, Berit raised a questioning brow.

“No- I mean- yes. He accused me of lying to him. I lied to him”, Haldis could not hide the uncertainty that rose in her faltering voice.

Berit chuckled. “And what was that fatal lie? He was already aware of your blindness and I cannot imagine he cares a button whether this peasant boy lives or dies. What is it that you did, if you are not lovers, that could be considered such a tragic betrayal?”

“I…do not know.”

“I thought so”, Berit flicked her wrist dismissively, “It is but a dramatic reaction, nothing more. I have seen worse in my days.”

Haldis gritted her teeth, angry at the small part of herself who wholeheartedly agreed with what had just been said. “You don’t understand”, she retorted.

“Do I? Maybe I don’t. At the end of the day, it is your affair and your life, not mine. But I care for you, child, so this I shall say; you can work the situation out, if you venture to do so. Sadness and self-pity are very alluring- do not indulge in their charms any more. Take care of yourself, gather your strength, and take matters into your own hands. Talk to him and see what happens. You have nothing to lose, you said it yourself.”

Haldis could only sit there, stunned into silence by Berit’s simple wisdom. What the old woman had said was nothing unheard of, but hearing it from her lips somehow made it more real and easier to reach.

What a strange woman Berit was. One moment she seemed helpless and lost in her mysterious past, and the very next she was full of strength and common sense. Then again, it is so much easier to solve other people’s problems instead of ours. Everything is so simple when it has nothing to do with us.

“I suppose”, it was all she could manage. Berit nodded in agreement.

“You suppose well. Now”, she said grabbing the forgotten bowl and gathering a spoonful of porridge, “you must eat.”

Haldis ate that day, and the next and the next. For the rest of the week, with the helping hands of Berit, she ate and let herself be taken care of and slowly, yet steadily, she felt the strength rush back to her body, as well as in her mind.

Her soul had wavered and fallen in the rage of the tempest, but now she was being pulled back into the sun. Into life.

And she wanted to fight for him. She really did.

And fight she would.

“You have a visitor.”

Haldis jumped from her seat next to the fire, her heart giving a small leap at the thought of who it could be.

Berit allowed herself a chuckle. “Now don’t fret, child. It’s your red-headed friend. Shall I let her in?

Haldis nodded, but sank back in her seat, silently reprimanding herself for even daring to think it could have been Prince Ivar. She heard Berit and Saga’s footsteps in the hallway, as well as their voices, conversing quietly.

“I have brought some goods”, Saga stammered, as she was ushered in the room.

“You didn’t have to”, Haldis said quietly.

“Oh, nonsense! I eat so much these days, I have almost grown double my size!”, Saga countered and forced a chuckle.

“I will leave you two alone”, Berit commented curtly and took the basket off Saga’s hands.

“You look well, Haldis”, Saga started after a moment’s pause, clasping and unclasping her hands nervously.

“Thank you”, Haldis murmured quietly, unsure of what to say. It had been long since they had last talked to each other and their angry parting only served to make the situation more awkward.

“Thank you for taking the initiative to visit me…nobody else came”, Haldis began again with a slight tremble, “Not that I blame them, of course.”

“Oh, don’t say that, Haldis”, Saga moved closer, “Such things happen often…people die. It’s not your fault.”

Haldis gripped her dress in anguish, “So the boy died! Who told you?”

Saga made an abrupt gesture with her hands. “No! No one told me! I don’t know if the boy is actually dead, but, of course, there are all sorts of rumours…”

Haldis nodded in solemn understanding.

“But whether he lives or dies has nothing to do with you. It’s not your fault you are blind, Haldis. No one can blame you for trying to lead a normal life, for being afraid to tell the truth”, Saga exclaimed fervently.

“Oh, but they can! They can blame me! And they should!”, Haldis shot back, “And it matters if the boy survives, no matter what you, or anyone else, might think. It matters to his family. It matters to me…”

“Oh, Haldis…”, the red-haired woman moved to hug her sobbing friend. “The gods are testing you. Have courage and, trust me, it will all get better soon.”

Haldis gave a bitter chuckle at this, though the tears did not cease to stream down her cheeks. “It seems as though the gods have been testing me my whole life. And when it seems to get better, it all crumbles; it has always been like that. Tell me, Saga, am I meant to suffer forever?”

“You are the one who can read the future, Haldis, not me”, was the answer. It was paired with a small, though warm, smile.

And something in her tone, something caring and reassuring, helped Haldis regain her composure.

“How are things going?”, she asked, while she wiped her eyes with the edge of her sleeve.

“How can they be? War is coming.”

“I mean with Sigurd.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t care.”

“But I would. I might not care about him but I do care about you.”

“The same. He is…distant”, Saga muttered, feigning indifference, though the sadness was omnipresent in her voice.

“Perhaps he is anxious about the upcoming battles.”

A sigh drifted from Saga’s lips. “I don’t know…I really don’t. He doesn’t talk to me about such matters- at least not anymore. And he argues so much with Ivar”, at the mention of Prince Ivar’s name, Haldis sat up, her senses alert, “Oh, Haldis, I think they hate each other! There are times Ubbe and Hvitserk have to hold them back by force…oh, I think this hate is affecting my dear Sigurd so much!”

“Do they fight with weapons?”, Haldis could not ignore a strange feeling that pricked her gut.

“They tend to attack each other, out of anger. And they always disagree. Oh, Haldis, it’s so frightening, what an angry man can do, what an angry man can say!”

“Yes, it is…Anger is a great weapon.”

Saga nodded. “But most importantly, it is a great liar. Don’t you think?”

Haldis thought so. Anger is the best of liars. It tears people apart, driving them towards lies with its maddening feeling, blinding them from the truth. Pride takes over the reins and anger leads triumphantly both the mind and the body. It happens often, in this world.

“-Oh, gods!”, Haldis gasped and stood up from her seat, as if she had been struck by lightning. “I must go to him, I must speak to him immediately! I must not delay it any longer!”

“Where are you going?”, Saga questioned her, bewildered.

“To Ivar! I must speak to him before it is too late! Before anger has blinded him completely!”

“Ivar? What has Ivar to do with it? Are you going to talk to him about Sigurd?”

“No! I have to make peace with him! Because I can’t bear…I can’t bear to be without him.”

Saga grabbed Haldis’s hand and squeezed it. “That’s it! Now you understand. That is how I feel about Sigurd. It’s love, you know.”

Haldis felt hot tears well up in her eyes all of a sudden. “It’s not a matter of love”, she spoke, her voice as feeble as a whisper. “It is a matter of friendship. And of faith, I think”, she added after a moment’s pause.

And with that she stormed out of the hut, before Saga or Berit could chase after her.

Her heart hammered against her ribcage like a war drum as she headed towards the Great Hall. She did not dare to pause and consider what she was about to do, for she knew she would lose all her courage.

She simply headed towards him, knowing that she at least had to try. That even though the gods had never ceased to test her, at least she had learnt to be strong. And strength comes from within. From beautiful feelings which stem from one’s heart. Like friendship.

Or love.

Hovering in front of the entrance, the prominent sound of drunken warriors puking on the ground and singing songs like maddened men hit her ears. Before she could pass through the arched entrance, she felt a hand seize her arm and she flinched in terror.

“Haldis, is that you?”

It was not Prince Ivar. The voice was placid but firm.

“Yes. Who is this?”, she inquired, struggling to break free from the man’s firm grasp.

“It’s Ubbe. I recognized you from afar. Have you come to talk to Ivar?”, the man released her hand.

“Yes, I must go to him. Do you know where he is?”

“Listen, Haldis, I don’t think it is the best time to go to him. He and Sigurd just had a big argument. He is enraged”, the prince explained calmly. The kind tone of his voice lessened Haldis’s agitation, and she finally paused to think what course of action would be best to follow.

“Is he really that angry? Maybe I should at least try and go to him”, she suggested, though doubt shadowed her words and thoughts.

Prince Ubbe chuckled, but not unkindly. “While I admire your genuine care for my brother, I really think you shouldn’t interfere. He has been inexplicably angry these past weeks. He has violent outbursts, especially towards Lagertha and Sigurd. It really isn’t the right time, Haldis”, he concluded.

“I understand. Thank you for warning me, prince Ubbe”, she said with a grateful smile.

Said man smiled back. “It was nothing, Haldis”, he made a move to leave but turned back as if he had forgotten to say something. “It’s really fascinating”, he said good-humouredly, “Do you know you are the only woman who puts up with him?”

‘As he is the only man that has cared for me’, Haldis thought with feeling but did not voice it.

Turning away from the crowded hall, her thoughts ran to Prince Ivar. Was it possible that Berit had been right? That he was suffering, at this very moment, just as much as she? Was it possible that he missed her? Or that he regretted his actions? That his outburst towards her was a mere excuse to hide his own pain?

She desperately needed answers. But she couldn’t go to him, not yet. She had talk to someone who knew the prince well, someone who would advise her and not shun nor judge her.

And then it dawned on her. There was someone who met all these requirements perfectly. Someone who could shed light on the temporary darkness that had fogged her life. She had to find them quickly.

Without wasting any more time, Haldis changed direction and rushed towards the village. She searched deep in the labyrinth of her mind for the memory, for the path she would have to follow, silently praying to the gods to aid her in her small quest.

Not much time later, she was standing in front of a wooden door, her hand suspended mid-air in a sudden fit of hesitation. Reminding herself that she ought to be brave, Haldis quickly knocked on the door and immediately shrank away, as though an animal would emerge from inside and attack her then and there.

After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened, instantly releasing an aromatic warmth of burning herbs and cooked food.

“Hello. Can I help you?”, the kindhearted voice of a woman sounded from the threshold.

Haldis took a deep breath and replied. “Yes, I am looking for a man named Floki.”

“I am his wife. Who is asking for him?”

Haldis hesitated for a second. “Tell him it is Haldis. The goddess of stones.”

The woman withdrew herself back in the hut and soon returned to inform her that Floki had agreed to come and see her. Haldis shook the dust off her dress and made a hasty attempt to tame her tousled hair. Taking deep breaths, she tried to put her thoughts in order, so she would be able to ask the right questions.

And thus get the right answers.

“I have been expecting you.”

Although she had been waiting for the man, Haldis jumped up in surprise. The voice was raspier than she remembered; there was something in its tone, something eerier and other–worldly. God-sent.

“Y-You have?”, she managed to ask, half-terrified by his words, half-terrified by his presence.

Floki let out a strange high-pitched laugh, as if he was mocking her for her ignorance.

“The cripple has been odd lately. I figured it was woman trouble. It was a matter of time before you came to me for advice”, he made a spasmodic move with his shoulders, “Come inside.”

Upon entering the hut, Haldis was shown a seat on a low mattress. Floki’s wife offered her mead but she rejected it, unable to prevent the memory of the last time she had accepted the drink from emerging.

Overwhelmed by a torrent of giddying feelings, she fought hard to repress a sob.

“Floki…do you know Ivar well?”, she inquired with a slight tremble in her voice, while the man settled himself opposite of her, a cup of mead clasped in his hand.

“It was I who raised him.”

“Then you must know the right way for me to make amends with him. And also what I did to anger him.”

“You do not know?”

“No…”

“Are you sure?”

Haldis nodded, perplexed. Floki tittered but did not say anything. He brought the cup to his lips and drank it all, slowly, all while Haldis was sitting still, an uncomfortable silence immobilising her.

“The boy has not had an easy life, you know”, he finally spoke, tossing the empty cup away.

“I know.”

“Do you really? Have you ever fathomed what he has been through? Constantly having to prove himself to his father, mother, and brothers. To everyone around him, to the world! To prove that he is strong”, Floki leaned closer to Haldis and brought his fist to his chest, “This is enough to harden a man.”

Haldis did not know how to answer appropriately. Floki continued, his voice breathy, his breath, so close to Haldis’s face, smelling strongly of mead and meat.

“He has a strong, solid faith, this crippled boy. I taught him to honour this faith, to cherish it. But when it is betrayed, when this trust is betrayed, he breaks. Do you understand?”

Haldis nodded, even if she didn’t.

“And because he deems showing emotion, feeling emotions, as a weakness, he will mask his hurt. He will pretend. Is it now clear to you, goddess of stones?”

“I…”

“Is it not clear to you that someone else being the victim makes the hardened man feel better? It is how life has shaped him; you can’t blame him.”

Floki pulled away from Haldis and tilted his head to the side, as if to suggest that the conversation was over.

“But I don’t understand what that has to do with me….”, Haldis whimpered.

Floki shrugged. “Whether you understand it or not, it has a lot to do with you”, another titter escaped him, “At least that is how I see it. So I would advise you to act according to your own judgement.”

Haldis clenched her jaw in irritation. “But I came to you for advice. I thought you knew…”

“I am not sure I do. I might.”

“I cannot trust my own judgment…it has failed me too many a time.”

“Then implore the gods to enlighten you with their wisdom.”

“The gods are never on my side.”

“So you like to believe.”

“That I know.”

Floki huffed. “You claim you know more than the gods, then?”

“No, I-”

“-then trust them. That and yourself. This is my advice.”

Haldis realised it would lead towards nothing to argue with the strange man. It was wrong of her to come to him in the first place. How could he help her when he did not know anything at all about her relationship with the prince? He only spoke gibberish.

“I must go now”, she said, rising from where she had been sitting.

“Yes, you must. We all must, at some point”, was the chilling answer that followed her to the door.

Haldis sprung outside without even thanking him, feeling miserable. All had led to nothing. She only wished she could solve everything by a mere snap of her fingers. How lovely it would be to turn back time and prevent herself from doing whatever it was that she did do that brought fourth all this sadness…all this pain.

She wanted to be with him. She missed him. She missed his voice that could be so smooth, she missed his laugh that, despite its rarity, could penetrate the darkness of her world and shower her in light. And his smile…she could always sense his smile, for she had read his face before. She remembered it clearly. Her stomach twirled and a strange flush traveled throughout her whole body at the memory of their skins touching…She missed it.

She wanted him back. She had to get him back.

Haldis tightened her fists, her whole body stiffened. That very moment, standing outside the hut with the spring breeze tossing about her tangled hair, she decided she would do it. She swore to the gods that she would make peace with him, that she would win her life back. Right then and there.

Obeying her pure instinct, her raw emotions, she began walking. Walking towards the Great Hall, towards him. Her walk was slow and focused, almost hypnotizing. She was keeping her head high. No one would stop her this time, she did not care if he was mad with rage, she did not care if he spat at her or attacked her or had her locked away. She wasn’t afraid of him. She was afraid of a life without him, the man who had shown her how to defy fate itself.

And deep down, a swirling instinct, was telling her that she was doing the right thing. That he was waiting for her, that very moment.

She was coming.

When she arrived at the Great Hall, she could sense that night had already fallen. The warriors were continuing their endless celebrating, though their drunken cheers and shouts sounded more distant to Haldis’s ears.

She entered the Hall, unbothered, paying no attention to some vulgar comments drunk men whistled at her, believing she was a slave. Her feet led her, slowly, to where she had gone before.

She felt as though she could hear the owls outside, cooing ominously, yet she did not stop. She passed unnoticed through the halls; to anyone who had seen her she was just another woman, heading to someone’s bed.

She finally came to a halt when she reached her destination. Her heart was pounding just like a real war drum this time, warning her of what was to come.

She knocked on the door, holding her breath, but did not wait for a reply. She knew he was inside. She could feel it.

“You!”, he cried the moment he saw her, sitting up from his seat by the side of a radiating fire. His voice was hoarse.

“Yes, me. I have come to you”, she was aware of the chilling quietude of her own voice.

“I did not ask for you, slave”, he growled but did not move.

“I am not a slave anymore. You have freed me.”

“And I live to regret it”, and then to himself, “To show mercy!”

“It is no weakness to show mercy. Neither is forgiving.”

“To forgive!”, he spat the word with venom, “I said I will never forgive! Never!”

She did not reply immediately. She stepped closer. She could sense his eyes burn into her body, but she was determined to finish what she had started. There was no going back.

“You must, Ivar, you must”, her voice was softer now. To tame the beast.

“Go away!”, he screamed, his face distorted by a swerving anger. “I…will kill you, if you don’t!”

_It is how life has shaped him; you can’t blame him._

Another step. “Do it, if you must.”

“I will!”

He had said such things to her before. She wasn’t afraid.

“Do it, then.”

She stopped the very moment a war cry was falling from his lips. He charged towards her with force. Facing the far distance, she could feel the twinkling light of a starry night caress her back.

They dropped on the floor from the force of his push. The attack never came though. His hand was frozen mid-air, and a wolf-like grunting was hurling from his throat. She did not waver. Sitting up, she raised her hands to his face. He didn’t react. She brought her face close to his, so close their breaths mingled. The fire burned.

“What happened, Ivar? What happened to your faith?”, she whispered with feeling.

“It was wronged, Haldis. You wronged it…you did.” It came out as a suppressed sob. Not a howl, not a grunt. A sob.

“How?"

“I thought I was strong. You made me believe I was”, he shifted slightly. He gripped her arms with his strong hands, the hands that had carried his weight ever since he was born. “You made me believe.”

“But you are strong. So strong...can’t you see?”

“You lied…you lied about accepting…I…”, his voice broke before he could finish.

She could feel his face under her hands. A grimace of pain had painted it.

“About accepting what?”

He gulped. “…yourself.”

His grip had begun to hurt her arms. Haldis felt her eyes grow wet, as realization hit her.

“I…”, she muttered, unable to find the right words. His breath was warming her face, while her hands had still not left his. “I did not lie. I still stand by what I have said.”

“If the gods offered to cure you right now, would you accept their offer?”, he asked stiffly.

Haldis closed her eyes. She tried to envisage a different life, a life that she had dreamt of so much of when she was little. A life without darkness and pain. Without him.

Her eyes fluttered open. “No”, she said softly, a small smile etched at the edges of her mouth.

“You said blindness is a curse. I cannot believe you”, despite his words, Ivar’s voice was just as soft as hers.

“It might be a curse”, Haldis responded, “But I would not change it for the world. For it has made me stronger.”

“I…wish I could believe you”, it was fainter than a whisper.

Haldis smiled sweetly. Their lips were so close, that she could feel them brushing against each other. Their breaths had become one.

“Then do, Ivar. Then do…”

There is not a lot to say about what followed. Some moments in life are so hazy that they always stay faded in our overloaded minds. Yet the feelings they produced are imprinted inside of us, in our skin and eyes, in our lips and in our hearts which pounded us through this finite eternity of a moment. We are what we have lived.

A long time after, Haldis would attempt many times to recollect the moment, what happened after they spoke, but she couldn’t. Nothing was ever clear. Amidst her mind was the memory of two lips close to each other but never quite united. Two bodies locked in an embrace resembling a wrestle match. And among the bright field called the sky, the moon laying and smiling down at them through a window.

The next month passed for her like a dream. She felt as though she were a mere observer of her own life, but the feeling was sweet and overwhelming. The darkness surrounding her was not so overpowering anymore, so heavy. It was as though the sun had shined down at her with all its glory, penetrating the thick crust of pain that had formed before.

Throughout that month she was with him every day. She stayed with him while he trained, and they talked of war. They talked of faith and Christians and of victories. Or maybe they didn’t. She only knew they were together, both lost in the clouds of their memories and feelings. 

War had begun but it could not affect her. Fear seemed like a nuisance in front of the calmness she felt, the certainty that he would come back to her. Alive and a champion.

While the others fretted, she waited.

And he did come back.

She was sitting under a tree with a silly smile drawn in her face. Berit was cooking something inside the hut, along with swearing and cursing, but her voice was simple a part of the faded background. A gentle cooling breeze was blowing.

And then, as if in a dream, she had heard his voice.

“I have come back.”

She had not turned to him, dismissing him as a mere daydream of hers.

“Haldis, can you hear me? I have come back.”

A stench of dried blood and metal coated the air. The sunbeams pierced through the leaves of the tree and landed on her. There was so much light. God-sent.

His voice rang again. Strong, so full of confidence. She could almost hear him smiling.

“Do you hear? All is done. Their blood wets the ground. We have won.”

And it was at this moment that she knew how much she loved him.

**Author's Note:**

> Small warning: Updates are slow but there. I try my best to manage time. Thank you for your patience <3


End file.
